


Merry Choi-mas!

by AilisCeana, morninwarri0r



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Choi family, Choi family fluff, Choi twins, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-20 03:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13138392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AilisCeana/pseuds/AilisCeana, https://archiveofourown.org/users/morninwarri0r/pseuds/morninwarri0r
Summary: 12 days of Choi-mas: A collection of fluffy holiday-themed one-shots with the Choi twins.





	1. Cuddling by the Fire: Saeran x Reader

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: The one-shots will take place in the context of after the secret ends, and Saeyoung will be paired with MC while Saeran will be paired with 'Reader'. :) 
> 
> morninwarri0r: Hello! Hope you enjoy this series of fluffy one-shots. They will feature a mix of Saeyoung/MC, Saeran/Reader and Choi family fluff. Here's wishing everyone a merry christmas!!! 
> 
> AilisCeana: Please enjoy the fruit of our suffering. Merry Christmas!

Your teeth are chattering so hard that you’re sure they’ll crack and fall out of your mouth soon. You make quick work of exiting the bathroom, haphazardly drying yourself off with your towel and throwing on a long-sleeved top and a pair of leggings. It’s still too cold. In your desperation, you speed-walk out of your room while struggling to put on your hoodie. You have one arm in and your head partially through the top of it, and you’re now battling it half to death trying to fit your second arm in. You probably look stupid, and there’s a good chance you’ll knock into something since you can’t see very well, but you could care less about that.

You head straight for the fireplace in the living room, sighing in relief at the sensation of the heat warming your numbing extremities. You let out a huff when you finally get the hoodie on properly, before plopping down with an unceremonious thump on the floor by the edge of the fireplace. You then close your eyes to allow your hurting red nose to thaw.

“Cold?” Saeran asks from where he’s positioned right in front of the fireplace, the best spot to have. He’s staring at your still dripping wet, unkempt hair over the rim of his mug of hot chocolate, and you peek open an eye to narrow it at the man who’s all cozy and snug, wrapped up in a pile of blankets while you’re still shivering from the cold next to him.

“Yeah, it’s freezing. Scoot over?” You shift closer, nudging him with your elbow to get him to move, but he doesn’t budge.

“I took this spot first,” he states nonchalantly, sipping on his hot chocolate without batting an eyelash.

You roll your eyes and give him a light punch on the shoulder. “Come on, I’m cold, I need the fire more than you do. You’re bundled up in four blankets like a snowman and sipping on a hot drink. Move over.”

“You can feel the fire just fine from over there.” He maintains his poker face perfectly well, except for the small slip-up in the form of a split-second upward curl of his lips, which is immediately ironed out to keep his straight face intact.

“You’re not going to move, are you?”

“No.”

"Fine. I have a solution to this. Put down your hot chocolate for a sec.”

He narrows his eyes suspiciously at you in response. “This is mine. I’m not sharing it.”

“Of course you’re not,” you mutter with another eyeroll. “I won’t touch it, so just put it down for a bit.”

Reluctantly, he does as you request him to, less than enthusiastically setting his mug down farther to his side so that he’ll get to it first in case you decide to go back on your word and make a surprise dive for it.

With a gleeful smile, you take two steps so you’re standing right in front of him, turn around, and then sit down on his crossed legs. Your smile widens when you realize you actually managed to accomplish that in one try. You half-expected Saeran to move or to push you away and demand to know what you’re doing first.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a flat voice when you grab the topmost blanket over him to cover your front with it.

“Getting warm.”

“...By sitting on me?”

“By finding a brilliant way to allow the both of us to get the heat from the fire at the same time. So _yes,_ I’m getting warm by sitting on you.”

“Get off.”

“No.”

“You’re heavy and my legs hurt.”

That earned him a hard smack on the thigh, causing him to groan. “Rude.”

“Says the one who sat on me without asking for permission,” he shoots back gruffly, now wriggling his legs in an attempt to throw you off. All it does is bop you up and down as if you’re a child, making you laugh.

“Hey, I’m doing you a favour here,” you say when he stops shaking you, no doubt because he’s tired, “I’m lending you my body heat so you don’t feel cold.”

“I was perfectly warm just minutes earlier until you rudely intruded into my personal space.”

"You’re welcome. Also, this is _my_ home and _my_ fireplace, so I call the shots.” You grin triumphantly when he pauses to think of a suitable comeback, and eventually settles for a defeated groan instead.

“Get up,” he says, placing his hands on your waist to hoist you up and off his legs.

“I just said—”

“My legs hurt in this position. At least let me sit comfortably,” he cuts in, patting you on the side rapidly to get you to move.

You do as he requests, standing up so he can stretch his legs out, leaving a space in the middle for you. When you sit back down, he takes the blanket you stole from him and lays it over both your legs, before grabbing another blanket off his back to do the same. You smile as you lean back against him while pulling the second blanket up to your chin, and it deepens further when he wraps his arms around your waist in a loose hug and rests his head against yours.

“This feels nice,” you remark. Snuggling up against him like this, you can feel the faint but steady rhythm of his heartbeat on your back, the warmth from his breath tickling your ear and cheek, and the heat from his body spreading to yours. He makes an approving hum in response, leaning back against the low coffee table behind him for support and tightening his arms around your waist to press you closer to him. He takes your hands in his warmer ones, rubbing the back of them with his palms to get some heat back in them.

Time passes with the both of you listening to the fire crackle and each other’s breathing, watching the red and orange flames wave and dance in the fireplace and your sock-covered feet peeking out from the end of the blanket. He’s wearing the pair of socks that you gave him just a few weeks back. They are black with little ice cream icons all over them, while yours are red and white striped like a candy cane’s. Idly, you sway your feet from side to side, and a soft chuckle escapes you when Saeran starts doing the same.

“You should blow-dry your hair soon or you’ll get a cold,” he says, letting go of your hand to run it through your wet clumps of uncombed hair. “And it’s getting my favorite sweater wet.”

“I’ll do it later,” you reply with a dismissive wave of your hand. “I want to stay like this a little longer.”

Saeran makes no sound in response, merely taking your hand again under the blankets. You take that as a sign of tacit approval.

Craning your neck to the side, you look up to grin at him, only to find him staring intensely at you with soft but attentive eyes. The flames of the fire are reflected in his golden irises, adding a beautiful glow to them.

“Is there something on my face?” you ask, arching a brow.

“N-No... There isn’t,” he answers, with a fresh tint of red staining his cheeks.                  

“Then why are you staring at me like that?”

He gives a little shrug, looking away and avoiding your curious eyes. “No reason...”

"Liar. You’re blushing so much,” you point out, reaching a finger up to poke at his still reddening face. “What’s on your mind?”

He curses under his breath, turning his face away so you’ll stop scrutinizing his features from this up close. You smile to yourself, amused by how easily he blushes, a trait that he absolutely despises when he’s with you.

“Come on, Saeran. You can tell me. I won’t laugh, I promise.”

He grumbles to him about how you never keeping that promise, so it takes a few more prods and pokes from you before he finally talks.

“I was just thinking that you smell nice,” he begins still averting your gaze, “You’re warm, and...”

“And?”

“And it’d be nice if we could stay like this every winter.” His last line is muted, almost as soft as a whisper.

He exhales wearily, bracing himself for your laughter at the embarrassing words he just spoke, but it never comes. After a few seconds of waiting, the silence gets unbearable for him and his eyes dart to yours.

You can’t take your eyes off him, even though your neck is beginning to hurt. The blush on his face deepens the longer you wordlessly stare at him, your lips slowly curving into a wide grin that causes the dry and chapped skin on your lips to sting, but the light pain is easily forgotten as your eyes roam all over his beautiful face. Your brain makes note of the dampening feel of his palms covering your hands and the sight of shadows and light dancing across his still features, created by the flames of the burning fire.

“Can you say something? This is getting weird,” he states flatly.

“Okay,” you reply, leaning up to plant a little kiss on his cheek. “Let’s spend every winter together like this. There’ll be lots of cuddling by the fire and hot chocolate.”

His glare slowly dissolves into one of surprise and then his eyes widen to resemble those of a child’s. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you answer with a chuckle, leaning in to peck him on the cheek again. This time however, he abruptly turns and angles his head so your lips meet in a gentle and soft kiss, one as soft as snowflakes floating down from the sky and falling into a snowy pile on the roof by the chimney. His lips taste faintly of sweet chocolate. He then pulls away to press another kiss to your temple. “Is that a promise?” he asks with a small, hopeful smile that he can’t hide.

“Hmm.... On one condition.”

“What?”

From the corner of your eye, you spot his mug of hot chocolate. All you need to do is reach out and you’ll be able to take it — that is, if Saeran doesn’t twist your arm off before you manage that first. Taking advantage of his momentary inattentiveness, you stretch your arm out, deftly curling your fingers around the handle and pulling it to your chest, while he loudly objects with a sharp call of your name. He doesn’t wrestle the mug from you though, or there’s a good chance it will spill on the both of you.

“You have to share with me,” you grin, inhaling the sweet, heavenly scent of chocolate in the warm mug.

"No.” His flat answer is immediate. “Make your own. I don’t share.”

"Stingy,” you comment, wrinkling your nose at him in distaste before setting the mug down again. “Fine, I will.”

You move to stand up, but the second your butt leaves the ground, Saeran abruptly pulls you back down, causing you to slam back down on the floor squarely on your bottom. Wincing, you turn back to shoot a glare at him over your shoulder. “That hurts!”

“Who said you could get up?” he demands with a scowl.

“Uh, _you_?” you argue indignantly, still rubbing at the sore spot on your butt. “You told me to make my own hot chocolate.”

“You can do that later.”

“But I want it now.” With a huff, you move to stand up again, but Saeran is quick to wrap his arms around your waist and lock you in place so you can’t move.

He mumbles something that you don’t quite catch as you try to struggle out of his hold. Your vain attempts leave you breathless and laughing while you try to slap his arms away. “Let go, Saeran! Come on! I want hot chocolate!”

“...I’ll share.”

You freeze in your movements. “What? Come again?”

“I _said_ , I’ll share,” he repeats louder now, sounding more annoyed than before. “Just this once. But _don’t_ drink too much.”

“I can’t believe this,” you gush, pretending to tear up and fanning your imaginary tears away with exaggerated hand gestures. “You’re actually... _sharing._ ”

“Yes yes, the world is ending,” he mutters, unamused by your antics. “I’ll share for today, so don’t get up.”

“Okay, I won’t,” you sing gleefully, taking his mug once more and taking a sip of the hot drink and letting out a content “ahh” after swallowing.

“So that promise... you’ll keep it?” he starts, taking the mug from you so he can drink some too.

“Hmm...” You pretend to think for a while before continuing. “Alright, since you shared your precious hot chocolate with me.”

He makes a humming sound in reply while you settle back against his chest, and he rests his head against yours, arms wrapping tighter and more snugly around you now. The silence returns, save for the crackling fire in the hearth and the sounds of quiet breathing.

_This is nice,_ you muse to yourself, as you close your eyes, inhaling the earthy, musky scent of the fireplace mixed with the trace of chocolate lingering in the air. You can definitely get used to this every winter.

  

    

 


	2. Cuddling by the Fire: Saeyoung x MC

MC was rudely awoken when her husband decided to recreate an earthquake against her shoulder.  She mumbled a few incoherent insults and tried to yank the sheets higher on her body. 

“Hey,” Saeyoung called, his gentle whisper prickling at her neck. “Wake up and come into the next room.” 

He nudged her side again, this time successfully rousing her from the depths of slumber. She glanced out the window and observed  the darkness blanketing the sky. “It’s still night,” she said. 

“I know,” he said, his fingers brushing her shoulder as he pulled at the sheets. “Just come on.” 

His footsteps faded past the bedroom door. MC attempted to snuggle back into the bed, but the air was cold in their little cabin and without Saeyoung’s body heat, the draft invaded the cloths, rendering them useless. 

She swung her feet to the ground and followed after the redhead. 

She found him in front of the fireplace, his silhouette a stark contrast to the crackling flames. 

Her eyes adjusted to the light, allowing her to take in the atmosphere of the cozy cabin. 

It was like a scene straight out of a Christmas magazine. Fairy lights were strung across the walls, bathing the room in a soft glow. Forest green wreaths rested on the shelves, filling the air with the soft aroma of pine. 

It was so different from the first night she and Saeyoung had stayed there—long ago when danger was their reality and the future was uncertain and dubious. Back then, the place was tattered, rough, and in severe disrepair. Sort of like them at the time. 

But ever since Saeyoung bought the cabin as a rather expensive “wedding present” to themselves, they had gradually renovated it to better suit short visits like this. It still held signs of wear in its mahogany walls, but overall it was brighter, sturdier, and warm. Sort of like them now.

MC’s eyes shifted from the scenery and towards the huddle of blankets she presumed to be her husband. She padded across the dimly lit floor, afraid the slightest creak might shatter the delicate calm that had settled.

Despite the effort to dampen her movements, the floorboards protested under her weight. Alerted by her presence, Saeyoung twisted around to face her. The bundle of cloth swaddling him fell away to reveal his face, and MC’s breath caught somewhere between her lungs and throat.

His glasses were absent, allowing her an unobstructed glimpse of those amber eyes. They both reflected and mimicked the fire in their blazing curves. Specks of gold mingled with the auburn haze, giving the illusion that they were their own flickering flames. Even his red hair emitted an almost ethereal glow when paired with the soft light.  

He was beautiful.

At least until he hooked a candy cane onto the edge of his mouth. “There you are,” he said, his lips presenting  a ghost of a smile.

“Sorry,” she said, making her way around the mess of pillows and blankets he had created. She snapped off a piece of his candy, to his displeasure, and lowered herself onto one of the cushions. She noted the pungent aroma of wood wafting off his clothes as well as the shortened supply of logs in the corner. “How long have you been awake?"

He shrugged, readjusting the blanket on his shoulders. He rested his chin on his knees, his eyes fixated on the fire, occasionally following the popping embers. “For a bit,” he said finally. “I was cold. Thought you might be too, so I woke you."

“Why didn’t you just bring these blankets to bed?” she asked, gesturing to one of the many coverings he had scattered on the floor.

“Wouldn’t have helped,” he said. “Besides, you kept putting your cold feet on me.”

MC turned on him with a glower, but it wasn’t menacing enough to stop his snickering. So, she shoved him, pleased when the weight of the blankets caused him to topple sideways. She snorted in triumph when the covers slid off his form and exposed him to the chill. “That’s what you get,” she muttered.

His throat rumbled in a playful growl, but before MC could register that dark glint, it was too late. He grabbed her middle, dragging her onto his lap despite her giggly protests. He trapped her thrashing legs in place with his own and slid his hands under the hem of her shirt.

MC stiffened as his cold fingertips skimmed her bare skin. She moved to escape again, but found fighting only made it worse. His icy grip would spread to other parts of her middle, leaving goosebumps trailing down her stomach.

It was his turn to laugh. “Not so fun, is it?” he said.

“I get it! I get it!” MC said, batting at his wrists until he surfaced his icicle fingers.

He continued to lock her in place however, reaching to his side to grab an abandoned blanket and wrapping it around the both of them. His arms enveloped her frame and shimmied her closer to him. In spite of his freezing hands, the rest of his body was a hearth, banishing the frigid temperatures inside their bubble. 

“Anyway, it’s more comfortable just to sit in front of the fire,” he said. 

MC hummed in agreement, snuggling further into him and tracing her finger down his knuckles.  
Fragile silence once again weaved its way through the cabin. It rested on them like another blanket, adding another layer of warmth that external heat couldn’t provide.

But it barely survived under the strain of worry burrowing into MC’s chest. She knew the cold couldn’t be the only reason for his insomnia. 

“Saeyoung,” she began. “Was there something else that brought you out here in the middle of the night?”

His muscles tensed under her. His embrace became a little tighter, his breathing a little more erratic, and his heartbeat a little faster as it hammered against her exposed back.

“Just thinking,” he replied.

MC frowned at the dismissive answer. Saeyoung had come a long way since their first night here. He was more vulnerable and honest, but he still had those ghosts which he tended to bear alone. Especially this time of year.

He tried to hide it, and did it well with his blithe grins and cheery answers. But MC caught the falter when he thought nobody was looking. Those times when he ascended to that isolation he called “space.”

Even now, she could feel his presence growing more absent despite his body being flush against hers.

“About what?” She said, once again startling him out of his own head.

“About how much I love Christmas.”

She wasn’t expecting that. She shifted in his lap to gape at him and to check that he wasn’t being facetious. “You what?”

He laughed. It wasn’t silly or nonchalant. It was one of his rare, creamier laughs that wound its way from the depths of him and splayed through the air like a strain of music. His hands twisted her head back towards the fire as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “I know. It’s weird, especially with me being a Scrinch or whatever a while back.”

“Scrooge and Grinch,” she corrected. “And you weren’t really. I get why...why it was such a hard time for you.”

“Sometimes it’s still hard for me, ” he confessed. A quavering breath slid past his lips and tickled her ear. “Bad memories  just come up at the smallest things and open old wounds.”

MC’s heart constricted as his emotions bled into her. He was trying his best to adjust to normal life—to leave behind his past and his old self and better for his new found family. But, seeing him in moments like this, haunted from years of undeserved loneliness and cruelty... it hurt. 

“Were they coming up tonight?” She asked, her throat feeling suddenly dry. 

He nodded. “Which is why I was thinking of reasons I love Christmas. I was hoping…that if I could find a favorite memory, it would make all the Christmases fade into a grey haze just by remembering it.”

The words fell from his mouth like honey. Sweet, but heavy and laden with emotion.  MC sucked in a sharp breath when a drop of moisture fell against her shoulder—and it wasn’t from her own eyes.

A pang bombarded her chest, and her fingers instinctually intertwined with his. She settled backwards against him, the nail of her thumb tracing along his calloused hand. “And did you find one?”

“That’s the thing. There were so many to choose from,” he chuckled. His head cocked to one side and his eyes travelled across the ceiling. ”Decorating our first tree. Dragging Saeran out of his room to help. The smell of cookies and pie in the bunker. Going Christmas shopping in those huge crowds, and seeing the smiling kids.  Those Christmas carols that get on everyone’s nerves, but we hum them anyway.”

She couldn’t help but laugh then. He did too, until something tender overtook his features. His cool fingertips grazed across her cheek, and shivers ran down her spine. This time, not from the cold.

“But then I started thinking about you,” he said, his voice hushed. “And that’s when that pain started disappearing."

The comment was spoken with brazen honesty. It was a truth that caught MC’s heart in a vice grip, stifling her entire body with heat until she could barely breathe. 

She tried to say something witty in attempts to alleviate it, but she was too enraptured by those two golden irises transfixed on her form. They burned straight through her with such intensity that it rivaled the fire in front of them and demanded her full attention.

When she couldn’t speak, Saeyoung went on.

“I think the reason I love Christmas so much...is because I finally see it,” he said, his sigh drenching her in the scent of peppermint.  “As a kid, there were always the songs about joy and the feeling of home. But, I never found anything except emptiness. Until you…”

A strained chuckle erupted from his throat. MC touched the droplets dangling from his lashes, and her own heart quivered as they slid down her palm. She managed to look away from his coal like eyes long enough to release the tightness in her chest.

“Is that why you woke me from my precious sleep?” She breathed with a small laugh.

“Yes,” he returned with equal mirth. “I’m sorry for being selfish. I just needed you here to help me chase away the shadows.”

“I didn’t really do anything though,” she mumbled.

His nose brushed against her temple, and his mouth caressed the shell of her ear. “You did,” Saeyoung whispered, once again sending those delightful shudders down her back. “Your kindness is so inviting, that I just stumble into it and forget everything else. You...”

His hand pressed against her ribs, right over her thudding heart. His lips twitched upwards, expelling a breath that was both warm and chilling. “You are that feeling of home to me.”  

Her breath hitched at the statement, and suddenly her chest was inundated with so many emotions, she didn’t know how to process them.  
MC wanted to cry and laugh and scream all at the same time. She did none, however, her tongue rendered useless in her mouth.

So she slid her arms around his neck and pulled him into a crushing embrace. He returned it equally as strong, and their bodies melded against each other as if they were handcrafted to do so. MC wondered   
if they hadn’t been. 

Saeyoung pulled away only to close the distance between their lips a moment later. He reiterated every word he spoke with each one of his tender kisses, closing with a feverish, “I love you” against her forehead.  

MC mouthed the words in return, hoping he would understand through her overwhelmed state.   
He did. Beaming with contentment, he buried his face into the crook of her neck just as she rested her   
head right over his heart.

They remained there, not bothering to count the hours. The fire dwindled down to embers, barely providing any more heat, but neither moved to rekindle it. They were warm enough in their little haven of cloth and limbs. MC didn’t know where her body ended and where his began—only that he was present with all of his affections radiating off of him in waves. 

As the rising sun poured through the dusky windows, his fingers combed through her hair, rousing her from her silence. She leaned into his touch, intoxicated with every brush of his skin.

“MC,” he said, his voice a hoarse murmur. “I think I found that favorite Christmas memory."

“What is it?” she asked.

His mouth shifted in a smile against her collar, and his arms held her just a little closer. “This one."

“Mine too,” came her quiet agreement before they both returned to that tranquil quiescence.

If the feeling of home could ever be captured within a single moment, MC thought it would be something like this. Tangled blankets, tangled fingers, and the unspoken adoration of two people irrevocably fallen for each other. It was a little messy and scattered, but in that way—it was perfect.


	3. Playing in the Snow: Saeyoung x MC

She looked like an angel, he thought. The snow cascaded from the grey skies, dusting her coat and hat with a delicate layer of white powder. Her dark lashes fluttered against her cheek, the brightness behind them accentuated by the snowflakes sticking to them. Saeyoung could practically see a halo forming around her knit hat as her fingers continued tracing lines into her snowman, completely oblivious to his presence.

Her beauty almost made him regret the pile of snow in his arms. Almost.

Those pretty lips let out the most horrified shriek when Saeyoung dropped the bundle of white onto her head. MC whirled around, her celestial eyes now donning a hellish glare as they narrowed on him. He was fast becoming the object of her wrath, but he still had enough gall to laugh at the small mountain that had amassed on her head. Her mittened hands swiped it off before balling into tight fists.

“Saeyoung, you’re going to get it!” she shouted.

Her pouty lips and tiny voice were hardly intimidating, but Saeyoung knew firsthand that her saintly looks could be deceiving. He bolted in the opposite direction, his scarf barely missing her grappling hands. 

Her commitment was commendable, considering she was falling into the snow every ten seconds with her boot clad legs weighing her down. Still, her fury and the occasional snowball lobbed at his head was enough to get his own nimble feet dashing from one hiding spot to the next.

His lungs ached by the time he found refuge behind a large tree. He rested his back against the bark, leaned forward on his knees, and panted for breath. He peered around the trunk , spotting the disgruntled girl clambering over a particularly large boulder only to tumble sideways and disappear into the white fluff.

“So cute,” he muttered before sliding to the ground for a brief respite.

It was MC's idea to come out in the snow. Saeyoung had been hesitant at first, the cold always dredging up old memories of the brutal winter missions at his agency. But the world was bright today, even if the sky was dull. The white snow exuded a sense of purity, dousing him with a misplaced, albeit mischievous, innocence he barely had the chance to experience. No doubt, it was her plan all along. 

As if being summoned by his thoughts, MC appeared from seemingly nowhere beside him and scattered any further contemplation. Saeyoung barely had time to to scramble to his feet before she pounced. His yelp was half muffled into his scarf, and his body collapsed sideways into the snow. The flying ice momentarily blinded his vision. A weight dropped onto his middle, and he squinted past his layers of scarves to find her straddling him.

A few flirtatious comments flitted near his tongue until he saw the ball of snow tightly packed in her glove. He tried wriggling away, but between her and the snow underneath him, he was firmly pinned in place. “MC, what are you doing with that?” he asked, a nervous titter escaping his throat.

“Depends,” she shrugged, an unsettling smirk resting on her mouth. “How good is your apology?”

He propped himself on his elbows and protruded his lower lip. “I’m sorry,” he said, heightening his voice to an almost babyish tone.

Her head tilted to the side. “Aww,”she cooed. “Cute, but still not good enough.”

Saeyoung shut his eyes, anticipating the glistening missile to collide with his face at some point. But instead, his entire body was jolted upwards. He cracked one eye open when he still didn’t experience any uncomfortably sensations. It was only then did he realize she was folding his collar open and slowly approaching his skin with the snowball.

Horror swallowed up any pleasure he received from initially creating a tiny avalanche on his wife’s head.

“No,” he breathed. His arms shot forward in attempts to keep hers at bay. “No, no! MC, not down the shirt--I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Despite the insistent revenge etched into her features, laughter spilled from her lips with every word. To his chagrin, it was contagious, and his begging sounded less serious than he hoped with his voice wavering in amusement. 

“Nope,” she sung. "Still not good enough.”

She yanked on his jacket, creating a hole between his body and the fleece. Already, the brutal air raked down his bare chest and sent his frame shivering. His legs squirmed with the apprehension of ice splattering across skin. He clutched onto her wrist, digging his gloved fingers trying and failing to peel it away from its tight hold. “MC, baby, sweetheart, love of my life, please don’t do this to me. I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Tell that to my freezing back,” she grunted, struggling against his taut arms.

He stretched his neck past her shoulder and looked down her fluffy coat. “I’m sorry, MC’s back. There! Now please don’t--“

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Her hand slammed down against his chest, and the snow ball exploded. Pieces flew against his face and stuck to his hair while the rest went crumbling into his shirt. His throat squeezed out an odd, strangled cry. His shoulders scrunched all the way up to his ears as the pellets melted into ice water and dampened his shirt. The only thing he was aware of besides the dull stinging was MC's peals of laughter. 

He curled on his side, effectively sending her tumbling to snow. He violently shuddered from his spot on the ground. MC regained her bearings and rolled her eyes. “Come on, it wasn’t that much snow.”

He glanced at her before rubbing his arms furiously. “I’m not shivering because of the snow,” he said, pushing himself up on all fours. “I’m shivering because of your cold heart.”

Indignation swept over her features followed by a short cry from her mouth. She scooped a handful of snow into her palm and hurled it at his head. It pitifully missed its target, landing on his shoulder instead, but Saeyoung still dramatically sprawled backwards into the snow. “The cruel ice queen has vanquished me again. Who will resurrect me?”

MC bit her lip, obviously trying to appear more affronted than she was. Offended people didn’t giggle like that. She cleared her throat and jerked the end of his scarf. “You started it! I was just calmly making my snowman, and you went ahead and dumped snow on my head.”

Saeyoung sighed. She was right. He clasped his own scarf and used it to reel her towards him. “We could come to a truce, but I need to be resurrected first.”

“Oh?”she asked, tucking her knees underneath her. Her hair tickled his cheek as she hovered over him. Her gaze traveled across his features, each one privy to her reserved wonderment. His face heated under such scrutiny, her searching glances making him feel so vulnerable…so cherished. So warm. He was suddenly very grateful for the mini blizzard inside his coat.

She must’ve noticed how much she had undone him with her attentions. Her lips unfolded into a wide grin, her cheeks growing rosier than they already were.

Saeyoung clutched his heart and groaned. “A beautiful smile! It’s very effective, but my heart is still frozen. Hurry, princess, before I am left an ice statue forever.”

Another melodic string of giggles drifted from her throat. “I thought I was a queen,” she argued. 

Saeyoung rolled his eyes and gestured for her to keep playing along. MC obliged, as she always did, and tucked her hair behind her ear. The kiss she pressed against his cheek almost stung with its heat contrasting the coolness of his skin. 

“Did that work?”she said, brow arching upwards.

A little too well, he thought. Saeyoung sat upright and inhaled deeply. He patted his chest and turned to her with a grim smile. “I’m alive for now. But would the lovely princess offer her magical powers again? Just to make sure.”

“Happily,”she said. She leaned towards him, her eyes closing, no doubt for a proper kiss. For the second time that day, Saeyoung regretted the snow he was packing into his hands, but it was necessary. For his dignity.

He jumped to his feet, relishing in her surprised face for a split second before tossing the snowball towards her. Unlike her, his aim was deadly accurate and the ball pelted her middle. She shrieked, half in delight and half in exasperation, and swept as much snow as she could against his legs.

He retaliated with more of his ammunition, collected off the snow-covered bushes behind him. After that, it became a full out war. Ribbons of white streamed through the air, and their laughter mingled together in the most ridiculous harmony. Ice pounded against Saeyoung's skin, sometimes slipping in his coat and burning his skin. But he didn’t mind it. His heart was lighter than any other winter before.

Their fight eventually slowed. MC’s projectiles came less often and with less force, and Saeyoung’s aim faltered with the state of his snow encrusted glasses. He brushed off the extra ice from his lenses, noticing her glowing red nose. She waved her arms when he lifted another snowball. “Break! Please,” she panted. 

Saeyoung lifted his chin and scoffed. “I only accept surrender in the form of fresh hot chocolate.” 

She chuckled lightly before shaking her head at his expense. “Okay, Defender of Justice, you will get your spoils. But we really should get inside before we catch cold.” 

Saeyoung let out cry of triumph and waddled around in a little dance. Patient as ever, she hooked her arm in his and endured his prancing and bragging as they trekked back towards the bunker. 

He stopped her, however, when they arrived at her abandoned little snowman. Really, it was only three lumps of snow piled together with two stick arms, and a stick nose in lieu of a carrot. 

“Oh, you didn’t finish it,” he commented, noting the lack of clothing. She did add a pair of kitty ears though, of which Saeyoung heartily approved.

“Whose fault is that?” She returned, not unkindly. 

He crouched down with a soft chuckle. He removed one of his scarves and placed it around the neck as a sign of amends. “There! Now all you need is glasses, and it could be me.” 

MC ducked her head, her face reddening to match her nose. “Actually…” 

Saeyoung dragged his gaze back to the snowman in question. 

There was indeed a lopsided face, barely noticeable but still present. He could make out a smile, a few teeth, and what appeared to be his striped glasses scratched into the snow. A coo bubbled past his lips as the pieces clicked. “Aww, MC…you made me?” 

She hummed softly, though most of it was slurred into her chattering teeth. “I was going to make both of us before we got—er—distracted.” 

Saeyoung clicked his tongue and turned back to the crude likeness. His heart warmed a little at a second viewing, and he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his mouth. “Well, we can’t have a me without a you.” 

“It’s really fine, Saeyoung! Please, I’m really cold and—“ MC’s protests died when the redhead flopped back into the snow, his arms spread wide. He moved them up and down, ignoring her questioning look. 

Once he was satisfied with the grooves he created, he carefully stood to his feet and maneuvered around his creation to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her middle and rested his chin against her shoulder. He didn’t need to see her face to register her stunned silence. “Because you’re my snow angel,” he whispered in her ear. He pressed a short kiss to her cheek and tugged her along. 

MC opened and closed her mouth several times, spouting nothing but broke syllables until they arrived at the front gate. She sighed, her breath crystallizing in the chill. 

“You know, it’s so unfair,” she finally managed. Her eyes darted to his in a shy glance. “You won the snowball fight... and my heart. All in one day.” 

His heart clenched at the shy and mildly proud grin on her face. He promptly pinched her cheek in response. “Then I somehow have the best luck in the world. I don’t deserve it,” he said, cupping her face tenderly. 

“Saeyoung…” she began, his name being used with affection and admonition all at once. 

“But,” he went on. “I do deserve some hot cocoa, if I remember correctly. And I’d really like it soon. You know, since a certain ice queen put snow down my shirt.”

“Saeyoung!” she said again with more fury. She crossed her arms, her features once again puffing into a pout that made his insides melt. “You really have to make up your mind. Am I an ice queen, a princess, or a snow angel?” 

He really didn’t deserve her. 

He tugged on her coat until she stumbled into his arms. He squeezed her as hard as he could with the layers of cloth and fluff between them. “You are all the above,” he announced. “Two parts royalty and one part divine.”

He reveled in the blush tainting her cheeks from the bestowed compliments. Unlike him, she deserved every one of them and more.

He momentarily spared her from further timidity and spouted out the Arabic needed to open the gate. She waddled into the bunker, fully flustered and eager to escape his shower of praises, while he chased after her, ever eager to continue. 

Saeyoung may not have had good luck all his life. He may have had horrible memories of winter and Christmas, but now he had her. Her affections, her love, her care. All of it was enough for him. All of it was be enough to stave off his past--and also the cold that he would inevitably catch in the next few days.


	4. Ice Skating: Saeran x Reader

The fresh winter breeze melts in the warm rays of the afternoon sun on your face. Taking your first steps out onto the ice, you skate a few meters forward to get used to the feel of ice beneath your skates again. It’s been a while. Tentatively, you do a little twirl, stumbling slightly when your blades run over an uneven bump in the ice, but you’re able to regain your balance easily. At least you remember how to do that, you think to yourself with a smile.

You’ve always loved this outdoor rink. The sight of couples skating together hand in hand, little children waddling about unsteadily on the ice, parents falling as they frantically attempt to chase after their cheeky children who have yet to wear their gloves... It all brings a wide grin to your face, fond memories of childhood and yearly Christmas outings coming to mind. You gaze up at the skyscrapers surrounding the rink, the bright blue, cloud-filled sky and the towering Christmas tree located at the other end of the rink, and you feel excitement begin to well up in your chest. A squeal escapes you before you can stop it, and you’re about to skate off when it hits you that you’ve forgotten something — or rather, someone.

 You turn around at the sound of your name, just in time to see your boyfriend standing a distance behind you, though even standing seems to pose a huge challenge to him. He’s trembling while flailing his arms about as he attempts to keep his balance, even though it’s clear that he’s just barely taken a step off the ground onto the ice. His eyes dart from the ice to you, panic swimming in his eyes. Some relief sets in when you skate over to him, though it’s accompanied by irritation and an embarrassed flush of his cheeks when he sees you struggling to hold back your laughter at his pathetic state. Even the children getting on the ice while holding their parents’ hands are sending him odd stares.

You hold out your hand to him once you’re close enough and immediately he clutches tightly to your arm like it’s his lifeline.

“You were going to leave me behind,” he huffs angrily, leaning some of his weight against you as he tries to kick and release the tension in his leg muscles, clearly tired from the effort of standing on ice. “I can’t believe you almost left me alone to _die._ ”

Extreme embarrassment tends to turn Saeran into a sarcastic and petty drama queen, and honestly? You love it. Especially when he still needs you despite how peeved he is.

“Oh come on, you were doing fine,” you say, though both of you know that he was the exact opposite of ‘fine’. “It’s normal for your first time,” you continue when his disgruntled frown deepens at your unconvincing line. “Look, the kids over there are also struggling.” You point at a particular boy, who looks to be just about five years old. His mother is teaching him how to stand in basic position on the ice, and he manages to stay still for approximately three seconds before he somehow manages to lose balance and fall on his bum.

You and Saeran stare in stunned silence at the poor boy who begins to wail loudly where he is. “Well...” you begin, “at least you didn’t cry. Good job, Saeran, I’m proud of you.”

He brushes off your hand that’s patting his head and scowls at you. “I didn’t fall. And I don’t cry over these things.”

“Oh really? You got all teary-eyed when I skated over to support you just now.”

“I did no such thing,” he defends hotly, though his ears starts turning a dark shade of red as he drops his eyes. “Skating is hard, okay? And it’s my first time.”

“It’s okay, I got you,” you reply with a smile, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. All it does is makes him stumble and cling tighter to your arm. The shock that showed on his face in that split-second makes you giggle, and it takes you a while to iron out your expression so that he’ll stop glaring at you. He needs to stop doing that. Boyfriends don’t normally glare this much at their girlfriends.

In response, you pry his arms away from your sore one in order to intertwine your fingers, and it takes an audible groan from you to get him to loosen his death grip on your hand. “Don’t worry,” you assure, “We’ll hold hands okay? I won’t let you go.”

Saeran arches a brow at your words, not comforted in the least by your reassuring smile. “I swear, I’ll make you regret it if you let me go or pull weird tricks to make me fall—”

You scoff. “Of course I won’t. What kind of girlfriend do you take me for?”

Before he can come up with a snarky reply, you start racing across the ice while pulling him along for the ride. You have to bite down on your lip to keep your laughter from spilling out when you hear him release an undignified, strangled scream before tightly latching both his hands onto yours.

    

* * *

 

 You think back to the dates you’ve had with Saeran till now, and conclude that none of them can match up to this date, not even the one where you went to the amusement park with him to take all the children’s rides together and introduced him to all the children’s snacks that are a must-have at an amusement park. He had missed out on a lot as a child and you had wanted to help make up for that bit by bit.

...Okay, on second thought, nothing can beat that one, but this ice skating date is proving to be a very close second on your list.

Saeran really isn’t too bad at skating for a first-timer. He’s only fallen twice so far. Once because he sucked and fell on his own after convincing himself that he would be able to do a twirl on his own without following your instructions. The second time was because you pushed him for staring too long at this other girl who was executing a beautiful scratch spin and stating that you skated like a “circus elephant” compared to her. Rude. Also, if you’re a circus elephant, what does that make _him_? A snake crawling on the ice because his legs just can’t function properly? Honestly.

Unsurprisingly, it isn’t long before Saeran calls for a time-out and insists on taking a break.

“You know something?” he asks, panting while seated on the bench.

“Nope.”

"On days like this, I _really_ hate you.”

“I know. Love you too, Saeran,” you respond in a sickeningly sweet voice. You laugh when he makes a move to get up and away from you but slips on the frosty surface of the ground and lands squarely on his posterior with a groan instead.

After fifteen tiring minutes of persuading Saeran to go back to the rink because ice skating isn’t actually that bad and failing to convince him that you aren’t going to continue terrorizing him for another hour, you have no choice but to literally drag him back to the rink. Once you’re back on the ice, you decide you should probably do something to cheer your grumpy boyfriend up again.

You take his hand and then start skating at a suitably slow pace towards the center of the rink, keeping mum when he asks you what you’re “plotting” this time. You click your tongue in disapproval at his doubts of you, but then again, they aren’t completely unwarranted, considering how you nearly cost him his sanity in the past hour.

Once you’re there, you slow to a stop, and then take both of his hands in yours. In the background, a slow Christmas carol is playing. Perfect. Then, you place his hands on either side of your waist, before draping your arms over his shoulders and swaying in time to the music.

“What are you doing?” he questions, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Slow dancing on ice, silly,” you answer with a grin and warming cheeks. “Just thought we could use a change of pace since you’re still new to this whole skating business.”

He arches a brow at you. “And you didn’t think that I could use something like _this_ earlier? When I first got onto the ice?”

You shush him, pressing a finger to his lips. His eyes follow your finger, leaving him cross-eyed for a moment. “Just be happy and enjoy the moment, Saeran.”

He grumbles something incoherent under his breath, probably more complaints against you but nonetheless, his grip on your waist tightens to pull you closer to him, and he allows you to pull him along in slow circles. The both of you sway in time to the beat, and after a while you hear Saeran start to hum along softly to the carol while the ghost of a smile plays on his lips. His shoulders begin to loosen as he eases into the dance, the creases on his forehead fading away the more he loses himself in your eyes and in the faintly playing music.

Occasionally your skates bump into each other, causing both of you to stumble a little. When he appears to be less scared of the ice, you slowly skate backwards to pull away from him so you can lift his arm over your head and do a twirl. The silly action pulls a chuckle from his lips, which causes your own to curve upwards as well.

“I guess... this isn’t so bad after all,” he remarks after a while.

"Right? Told you you would love this.”

He hurries to qualify his statement. “I like it when you _don’t_ make me fall or skate like a cheetah on drugs.”

Shaking your head, you start skating backwards and pulling him along with you. “It was your fault that you fell twice,” you defend yourself.

“You pushed me the second time,” he points out evenly.

“That was _your_ fault.”

“How was it my fault? I was doing fine until you decided to— _Oi, look out!_ ”

You barely register his words before the back of your left leg slams into something, causing you to lose your balance. All you see is Saeran’s open mouth and his face frozen in terror as you fall backwards, pulling him down with you.

It’s not a soft landing. Your body slams to the hard ice, your tailbone and bottom taking the brunt of the impact, while you feel something hard jabbing painfully at your side. Saeran lands right on top of you, knocking the wind out of you with his sheer weight. He quickly tries to shift his weight off of you but accidentally slips and ends up falling on you a second time, squashing your chest and ribs yet again.

“Sorry,” he mutters, moving to get up so his weight is on his forearms that are resting on either side of your face. Some of your hair is trapped under his arms. “You okay?”

“Somewhat,” you reply with a pained wince. “What was that, anyway?”

"A sled,” he replies, looking over his shoulder where a small red, overturned sled is lying next to your thigh. “Who the _hell_ left a sled in the middle of a skating rink?”

“Probably a kid or someone else,” you mutter, noting its unusually small size. “Ouch...”

Saeran crawls away from you so he has sufficient space to get back on his skates, and once he’s up, he holds out a hand to you. “Here.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you up. Halfway through though, he somehow manages to lose his balance — maybe you put too much weight on him — and ends up slipping backwards, pulling you down along with him.

For the second time in the day, the both of you crash land in a messy heap of sore limbs. Maybe the pain has finally gotten to your head, but when you shift so you’re not crushing him with your body weight and look down at his face, you can’t help but throw your head back in laughter. You’re probably attracting odd stares from the people around you, but you can’t stop.

"Today has been such a disaster,” you manage in between laughs, trying to catch your breath. Saeran’s just staring at you like you’ve finally lost it, but before long the corners of his chapped, dry lips are also curling upwards and soon enough, he’s laughing along with you at the ridiculous situation the both of you are in.

“You better treat me to ice cream later to make up for this,” he sighs, blowing out a puff of air and tucking stray strands of your hair behind your ear as you nod at his suggestion. He deserves it for all the things he’s been through today. “Sure. Anything else you want as compensation?” you inquire.

His features settle into a thoughtful expression as he ponders over the question, his lips twisting to the side as he thinks. It’s cute, the way he’s almost pouting with his lips pushed out like that. Looking at him from this angle, with his red hair splayed out around his head like a halo, lying on the shimmering ice beneath the sun’s rays, you can’t help but feel your chest swell with affection.

An idea clicks in your head, and with a mischievous smirk, you lean in, catching him completely off guard when you press your lips to his. You pull away quickly after leaving a gentle peck, but his hand is quick to press on your back to keep you from moving away too far.

“One more.” His tone is serious, but his face is well on its way to matching the colour of his hair as his gaze remains on your face, attentive golden eyes tracing the lines of your features and lingering on the changing colour of your heated cheeks. “As... compensation,” he adds, by way of explanation.

You smile brightly, ignoring the sting of your cracking lips when they spread too wide, and you lean in, more than happy to comply and over-compensate, while you’re at it.

 


	5. Ice-Skating: Saeyoung x MC

They didn’t actually plan on skating. They were just taking a drive in one of his cars, and there was a sign for a nearby open rink. One thing led to another, and MC was coerced into going by the pleading sparkle in Saeyoung’s eye. 

She hadn’t actually stepped onto the ice yet. In fact, she was still sitting on the wooden bench outside the rink, boots untied and eyes mesmerized by the redhead gliding across the smooth surface. 

He stuck out like a sore thumb in the midst of everyone else. Maybe it was the crimson hair that was so prominent amongst the brunet and blond majority. Or maybe it was because the giddy laugh that perpetually spilled over his lips seemed better suited to the giggling children in the corner rather than a man who could very easily become one of the most dangerous people in the country if he wished. 

MC propped her chin on her hand as she continued to observe him. Despite the odd glances from strangers, Saeyoung seemed perfectly content. His eyes were glittering with some unknown happiness, and his mouth was curled up in a half smile, as if a secret dangled from the edge of his lips. It was...cute.

It almost made her forget all the remorse she initially harbored from agreeing to ice-skate. Especially since...she couldn’t skate. 

The thought grounded her back to her own situation, and she looked down at the laces still pooled against the icy floor. Reluctantly, she tugged at them, wincing as the back of the shoes dug into the sensitive area above her heel. The front of the boots pinched at her toes, and she grimaced at the damp feeling on the grey strings. She now remembered why she didn’t like skating. 

A heavy thud drew her attention back to the rink. Saeyoung had skidded to stop against the wall, his upper half bent over the separator. His cheeks were already glowing to match his hair, and his breaths came in uneven spurts. “Hey, I thought you said you were coming.” 

“I am,” MC replied, giving the laces a yank for emphasis. 

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You didn’t even get your skates on yet? Here, I’ll help you.” 

“No, I don’t--” she began. But her protests died in the air as he jetted back to the entrance. A few moments later, he was kneeling in front of her with his nimble fingers only taking seconds to wrangle with the cloth snakes. 

“There you go,” Saeyoung beamed, completely oblivious to her less enthused response. 

She muttered a thanks before taking his extended hand and standing to her feet. She tried not to reveal how much her legs were wobbling as they plodded towards the ice. Saeyoung let go when they finally arrived, and with a seamless glide, he sailed back into the rink with all the grace of a swan. 

Meanwhile, MC resembled a trembling puppy, and she hadn’t even left the solid perimeter. 

Spurred by the insistence of his gaze, she reached out towards the rail lining the walls of skating area. The frosty surface stung her exposed fingertips, but she bit back the pain and continued on her mission. 

As odd as it sounded, she was terrified of the slick surface. Not because it might hurt if she fell--even though she was avoiding days of soreness if possible. She just didn’t think it very romantic to fall on one’s rear repeatedly in front of their lover. Her face already heated under the prospect. 

“MC?” Saeyoung called, his skates hissing against the ice as he inched closer. 

“Coming,” she returned, her cheery voice a stark contrast to her despairing thoughts. She lifted her foot and gingerly lowered it inside the rink. Grooves created by previous skaters marred its surface, and a thin shaving of snow constructed tiny paths all along the ice. 

Which is why MC wasn’t expecting the lack of traction underneath her skates. 

Her foot drifted outward on its own accord, sending panic coursing through her limbs as her legs spread in a split. Before she lost complete control, she snapped back to the fringes and cowered behind the wall. “You know, I think I’m fine right here.” 

Saeyoung said nothing for awhile. His eyes were wide behind his patterned frames, and his mouth formed a perfect circle. For a moment, she thought he was disappointed, but then he melted into a few easy chuckles. “You don’t know how to skate?” 

“I do,” she insisted, warily eying the other skaters darting past. “In theory. My execution is a little...well, off.” 

He once again slid into the wall with some force, his nose level with hers. “Well, lucky for you, I have been expertly trained in the art of skating, and I am also a willing teacher.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You were not expertly trained,” she said, even though his skill could be considered evidence of it.   
Saeyoung clicked his tongue and spun around, casually leaning his back against the rail. He threw his head back to peer at her upside down. “Fine, not expertly. Vanderwood taught me for a mission years ago, and let’s just say a taser is a very good motivator.” 

They exchanged a knowing chuckle before a more serious expression overtook his features. He reached over the barrier to grab her hands and gently tugged her back towards the entrance. “I can teach you though.” 

Hesitance twisted knots in MC’s stomach as she faced the white expanse again. But she made the mistake of looking up at his face and surrendering to the imploring purse of his brows. Inhaling a shaky breath, she gripped his hands tighter and took another step onto the ice. 

She landed right on her bum. 

A soft whimper escaped her throat as the slush underneath began to seep on to her pants. She tried positioning her foot on the ice to stand, but it gave way to the slippery surface, and she toppled back onto the wet mush again. 

“Are you---are you okay?” came Saeyoung’s rather breathy question. 

She glared up, finding her suspicions confirmed by his barely suppressed smirk. “Stop laughing at me!” 

“I’m not laughing!” he protested...in the midst of laughter. He cleared his throat, reducing his amusement to a soft smile. “At least you’re on the ice now. Just try again.” 

He hoisted her to her feet and moved his hands to her waist to balance her. MC felt anything but steady, even in his arms. Her fingers clenched the lapels of his coat as her legs attempted a horizontal split again. “I don’t think this is working, Saeyoung. Can’t I just watch you?” 

“No,” he sung, his eyes wrinkling in a cheeky grin. “Now just relax. Focus on standing, and not on the ice beneath you.” 

MC licked her chapped lips and turned her focus downwards to her teetering skates. Saeyoung slid his finger under her chin and lifted her head back up to his. “How am I supposed to stand if I can’t see?” she frowned. 

“By not thinking about it,” he said. He lowered his voice, his words sounding velvety and soothing. “Relax.” 

She swallowed hard and loosened her tense shoulders. Her grip on his jacket was still as desperate, but overall, she was more stable on her own feet. “Okay,” she murmured, resisting the urge to look down. “Now what?” 

He pried her fingers away from his coat, delicately handling them in his own palms. MC was suddenly aware of her clammy hands against his softer, warmer ones, but if he noticed, he didn’t comment. “Now, move like you’re dancing. One, two, three…” 

He demonstrated backwards, dragging her along much to her stomach’s displeasure. She couldn’t shake the unpleasant sensation prickling inside of her legs as they experienced weightlessness. Regardless, his arms were somehow holding her up, even though gravity was drawing her downwards.

“I-I don’t think I can do this,” she muttered. 

“Of course you can,” he chirped with more confidence in her than she ever had in herself. “You’re MC. You just have to try...and have someone spark your stubborn streak.” 

He mumbled the last part under his breath, but MC caught it. She released his hand to swat at his shoulder. That proved a huge mistake as she somehow tripped on her own feet and went tumbling forward. 

Lucky for her, Saeyoung hooked his arms under hers, saving her from further embarrassment. “You just continue to fall for me, don’t you?” 

“Shut up, you dork,” she snorted, grappling his shoulders to regain her standing. It was much easier this time, and she managed to uphold herself even with one hand free.

As time trickled on, she found that Saeyoung was right--skating was just like dancing. Granted, it was more like a sloppy dance involving an adept leader and a clingy partner. Still, she had achieved a steady rhythm with her feet, although she had a suspicion that he was exerting more effort to support her than she was to actually skate.

“So,” she began, once she grew tired of the the sound of skates pounding against ice. “What was that look earlier?” 

He tilted his head, though his focus was fixated on her feet lest she take a misstep. “What look?” 

“Earlier,” she explained, slowing her pace so she could better concentrate on talking. “You had this really cute smile on your face.” 

“Oh, when you fell?” he said with feigned innocence.   
If the threat of falling wasn’t so prominent, she might have hit him again. So she settled for glaring at him through her lashes. “No,” she said. “Before I even got here. You had this...really happy look.” 

He let out a low hum. He sucked air between his teeth and held the breath. Uncertainty flickered in his gaze as it shifted to hers, but she wasn’t sure the reason behind it. Nor the reason behind the red suddenly staining his cheeks.

His shoulders shrugged in nonchalance. “I really like skating.” 

MC narrowed her eyes, regarding him with a probing stare. She had known Saeyoung for quite some time now, and he was always deeper than everyone believed. His likes, dislikes, and even some of the random crap that flew from his mouth usually had a more profound meaning than at surface level. 

“And the reason for that is?” she prodded when he didn’t elaborate.

He slowed them both down to stop. His hands drifted to her waist, and carefully spun her around. She heated under the warmth of his touch as well as the curve of his chest against her back.   
“It’s something I have to show you,” he said. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall--even if it is funny. You know, you kind of looked like a penguin.” 

MC risked her balance this time and gave him a good shove on the shoulder. 

“A cute penguin!” he amended. It earned him another good shove.

To her delight, he was the one that nearly toppled---with an undignified shriek to top it off. She pointed her finger at him. “No tricks, okay?” 

Despite the smug simper on his face, he raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I promise,” he said. “Now turn around and close your eyes.” 

Her own gulp clamped against her eardrums. She trusted Saeyoung, but she didn’t trust her own amateur experience. Still, she did as she was told. 

She sucked in a sharp breath as his hands returned to her waist, this time with enough pressure to propel them both forward. Her heartbeat quickened along with their speed, and even though she couldn’t see how fast they were going, she could hear his skates battering the ice with increasing tempo. 

The tiniest of squeaks fled her mouth as the world started spinning. She was tempted to open her eyes, but the thought scattered from her brain with the exhilarating rush that pulsed through her veins. 

The cold air filtered through her lungs, making her feel deliciously light. The breeze combed through her hair in an almost caring manner. Her legs weighed nothing as they continued to spiral across the ice, and a headiness sent electricity coursing down her spine.   
The laughter tickling her stomach nearly exploded from her lungs, mingling with Saeyoung’s. 

By the time they stilled, her fear of skating from before was practically non-existent, and she wondered why she even loathed the idea. 

“See?” Saeyoung said, prompting her to open her eyes. He had somehow ended up in front of her again, his fingers intertwined with hers. “It’s fun...and light. For someone who was always tied down with something...my home, my agency, or my personal problems. I guess...that feeling is liberating.” 

That smile from earlier re-appeared on his face. Just like that, the chaos whirling around them and the people whizzing back and forth faded in her mind. Her attention was solely on him. 

MC was aware of the chaos whirling around them. She was aware of how many people were zipping by, and yet her attention was solely on him. 

Her chest clenched with endearment as she studied him--not only his features, stunning as they might be. But beyond that. The brilliance that practically emanated from his being and made him stand out to her in the midst of dozens. 

He waved a hand in front of her face. “Earth to MC. Has she gotten lost in space?” 

She gaped, scrambling for her its in order to form a coherent sentence. “Sorry,” she stammered. “I guess...I just felt that feeling again.” 

“Again?” 

She nodded and bit the edge of her lip. “From looking at you.” 

Her cheeks were already burning from stating such a sappy comment, but it probably didn’t even rival the blush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck. He let out several strained laughs, averting his eyes from her form.

“D-don’t say stuff like that,” he breathed. He clutched a hand over his heart as if she had actually done something to it. “You make me feel all dizzy.” 

In a surge of confidence, MC lifted her chin high and let go of his hand. She stood proudly on her two feet and skated past him. “Good,” she called over her shoulder. “Maybe you’ll fall--like you should after teasing me.” 

She should’ve known she would be punished after being so brash. 

She had taken no more than two steps when her blades caught on an indent in the ice. Her heart dropped into her stomach, and her body flopped face-first onto the hard, cold surface. Her skin stung, but as much as her pride did. 

Two seconds later, the man she thought so handsome a few moments before now donned the looniest grin as he cackled at her. 

She tried to be angry. She did. But it was difficult when she was drifting across the ice with her limbs splayed out like a starfish. 

So, she joined him, fully admitting to her own foolishness, but not really feeling any blazing shame. It was impossible with him being so lively. MC found his joy seeping into herself, and all she could think about was how happy she was that they could exist on this earth at the same time. 

As they resumed their date, hand-in-hand and reeling with each other’s presence, MC decided...she really liked ice-skating too.


	6. Gifts: Choi Family Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was 12 hours late... Anyways, happy new year everyone! :)

Saeran had no idea what he was doing. He was hunched over his laptop on the bed, speed-reading through articles on the web and furiously typing away at an open document filled with notes compiled from his research materials. It had only been about fifteen minutes since he started and the document was already nearly five pages and counting. Who knew there would be this much information to find? And so many cute pictures that he couldn’t stop scrolling through?

As he digested the bulk of information on the laptop screen, he silently prayed that his brother would not decide to take a sudden interest in his browser history. He should probably encrypt his browsing data later, just to be safe. He still had some time before Saeyoung and MC got home from their Christmas shopping date, so hopefully he would be able to quickly finish up here and figure out how to deal with his bad life choices before they return.

Just as he opened up another tab with a new article to read, he was startled by a sudden loud crashing sound to his left, quickly followed by a sharp, surprised mewl.

He snapped his head to the source of the racket, and all that greeted him was the mass destruction of his night light and digital clock, both of which were now lying dead on the ground, even though they were standing perfectly fine on his bedside table just a few minutes ago.

His eyes darted down to the dirty culprit standing next to the mess, and all it did was mewl innocently, slowly blinking its infuriatingly big and cute sky blue eyes at him.

...Like he said. Bad life decisions. And that was probably a severe understatement.

With a groan, he put his laptop aside and got off the bed, heading towards the crime scene. He noted the protruding cord on the floor that should have been connected to the night light, and guessed that it must have been accidentally tripped over. He placed the nightlight and clock back on the bedside table, relieved that neither seemed to be broken or dysfunctional after that nasty fall. Then he tucked the cord neatly behind the table so that a repeat of this wouldn’t happen. Otherwise, someone — or _something_ — could get seriously hurt.

With that fixed, he bent down and eyed the little creature before him, observing its forward, pointy ears and erect tail. It meowed again, stepping forward to lazily rub its head against his knee. Saeran wasn’t entirely sure why, but the action made a pleasant warmth pool in his chest and he was almost certain that his heart was literally melting at the sight of it nuzzling its small furry head against his leg. The corners of his lips perked up. Slowly, he reached out to carefully pick up the little creature. Its fur was curiously soft and its body was light and fragile in his hands as he lifted it up. It made him feel like the slightest squeeze would break it.

Gently, he cradled it against his chest, with the instructions on how to carry a cat that he read about earlier running through his head repeatedly. Thankfully, the kitten didn’t struggle all that much and instead settled comfortably in the crook of his elbow, leaning into his chest. Saeran breathed out a chuckle when it started swinging its paws about. It resembled a playful infant. Well... he supposed it was technically still a baby. The sign on the box along the street that he had found it in this morning had mentioned that the kitten was barely two months old.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, but given a second chance, he would have picked it up and brought it home like this again. The sight of it earlier had struck a sore spot deep inside him, and because a part of him —one that he would never be able to wash away — saw his younger self in its weakly half-opened blue eyes. Eyes that were seeking just a little warmth and love. Eyes that missed its home; eyes that were hopelessly lost.

Disgust and anger welled up within him once more on its behalf, the same emotions that had led him to pick up the box on impulse and head for home as quickly as his legs could take him. He petted the little kitten’s head, running his fingers through its soft orange, black and white spotted fur, and it purred softly at the comforting touch, which placed a sad smile on his face. It was all grimy and dirty from being left outside, and it smelled, but he could care less that it was getting his favorite sweater dirty. Saeran guessed that it had been left out for a few days already, out alone in the winter cold, no less.

The moment he brought it home, he had fetched it a small bowl of water, and it had drunk it all at lightning speed, before wolfing down the canned food that he gave it after that in a smattering of minutes. Saeran had no time to check the brand of the canned food that he found in the kitchen cabinet, nor did he bother questioning _why_ there was cat food in the bunker in the first place — Saeyoung’s doing, probably. He could only trust and hope that his brother had picked a brand that wouldn't be bad for the kitten eating it.

Speaking of his brother... A grimace — it was an automatic reaction whenever his brother popped up in his mind now — formed on his face. He doubted Saeyoung or MC would have issues keeping the kitten at home. In fact, they would be more than enthusiastic to do so.

The only issue was...

Saeran thought back to the videos that Saeyoung posted on the messenger with him “playing” with Jumin’s cat. And how notoriously well-known he was among the other RFA members for “playing” with cats in that horrifyingly twisted manner.

His eyes met the kitten’s, and it gave him a questioning mewl.

Yup. Not happening. This kitten was absolutely _not_ going to die in Saeyoung’s wretched hands. Not on his watch.

He would figure out how to deal with Saeyoung later. For now, there were other more pressing matters to handle.

Saeran shot a glance at his laptop, the screen stuck on an article titled, “How To Bathe A Kitten Safely”. Then he turned his gaze back to the kitten that was now staring at him with wide eyes, as if to ask him, _“What’s next?”_

“I hope you don’t hate water...” he muttered wryly.

Its ears merely twitched in response.

Much to his relief, the kitten didn’t seem to despise water all that much, though it gave him a couple of scratches on his arm for the anxiety he put it through. Fair enough. Saeran then quickly went to dry it with a towel, and once that was done, he wrapped it in a small blanket to take it out to warm by the space heater in the living area.

Plopping down on the couch, Saeran leaned back into the soft leather and heaved a tired sigh. He had been so stressed making sure the temperature was right and safe for the kitten earlier, but at least it looked like it was healthy enough. It was now was lying on his lap, snuggling up to the warm fabric of his clothes and angling itself towards the space heater. He ran his hand through the fur on its back in languid strokes, and it purred contentedly in response, resting its head on its little paws and closing its eyes. It then let out a yawn, sticking out its small, pink tongue as it did so. Saeran followed suit, mouth opening wide and moisture forming in his eyes as he yawned. They were both drained of energy, it seemed.

With the waves of heat in the air rolling onto his skin, and pleasant quietness filling the room, Saeran felt his eyelids growing heavier and heavier, exhaustion rapidly taking its toll on his body. The repeated strokes of his hand against soft fur became slower and more sluggish, until he succumbed to the darkness beneath his closed eyelids.

And that only lasted for a grand total of five minutes, before he was rudely awakened.

The sound of voices, footsteps and shuffling plastic bags outside the door as the pass code to the door was being entered startled Saeran awake in an instant. He jumped, causing the kitten on his lap to flinch awake too.

_Crap. Saeyoung._

“Hey Saeran, guess what we bought!” Saeyoung spoke from outside, still keying in the pass code. Why he liked to create math puzzles and randomize them every day to generate different passwords was beyond him, but Saeran could not be any more grateful for that security feature at the moment.

Saeran’s first instinct was to hide, but there was no time. All Saeyoung needed to do was open the door and the kitten would fall right in his line of sight immediately. The game would be up just like that.

There was a beep, and a click as the door began to open. No time.

In his panicked state, Saeran did the only thing he could possibly think of at the moment. Swiftly, he picked the kitten up from his lap, and pulled the hem of his sweater up so he could tug it over the kitten to hide it, and covered up the new bulge in his stomach with the blanket that was used to keep the kitten warm earlier.

He barely managed all that before the front door swung open, and MC and Saeyoung both marched in with an army of big, fat plastic bags dangling on their arms.

“Saeran, you’re here! Good! I wanted to show you this!” Saeyoung scrambled to dump the bags on the floor before digging into one of them and pulling out a long brown costume and holding it out in front of him.

“It’s a reindeer onesie! There’s one for you and one for me, and MC has the Santa onesie. Let’s take a picture later!”

MC chuckled as she placed the other groceries on the dining table, relieving her sore arms of the heavy weights. “Santa’s gonna need her little helpers’ help for dinner later, by the way,” she announced, carrying the other groceries into the kitchen.

“Yes, Master!” Saeyoung saluted with a wink. He then returned his attention to his brother, thinking it a little strange for Saeran to have kept quiet for so long. Usually by now, Saeran would have dropped multiple insults or swore never to touch the onesie or something along those lines, but he had been pretty quiet for a while.

Saeyoung’s smile dropped and his eyebrows turned up the moment he registered Saeran’s rather... pinched expression. “Saeran? Is everything okay?”

“...Yeah...” Saeran managed with an unconvincing nod, his left eye squinting as he winced. “I’m... fine...” His body looked unusually stiff, and he was covered up in the Longcat blanket that had been left untouched ever since Saeyoung gave him a few months ago as his birthday gift.

“You don't seem fine,” Saeyoung stated slowly, dropping the onesie back in the plastic bag and stepping over to him. “Are you feeling okay—”

Saeran’s finger abruptly shot out to point threateningly at him. Or at least, it would have looked more threatening if it weren’t shaking like an earthquake was racking through his arm.

“ _D-D-Don’t_ come any closer!”

“What do you mean—”

“Not one step!” Saeran shouted, eyes now narrowing into a furious glare at his brother, who obediently halted in his tracks, his entire body freezing.

"Are you two fighting again?” MC emerged from the kitchen with her cheeks puffed up. “Saeran, if this is about your LOLOL figurine that Saeyoung stepped on and broke by accident yesterday—”

“MC!” Saeyoung shot her a horrified look, eyes wide with betrayal and fear. “You promised!”

“ _Oh,_ ” she deflated, covering her mouth with a hand as she whispered belatedly, “I... made a mistake.”

“You _what?!”_ Saeran’s voice went up a good few octaves and both Saeyoung and MC cringed at the shrill, high-pitched sound.

“N-N-No, this isn’t about that,” Saeyoung stammered with a shaky grin, putting his arms up in surrender and directing his gaze to MC that practically screamed, “ _How could you do this to me?_ ” That did little to appease or distract his livid and still unwell-looking brother. “I was just asking Saeran whether he’s okay because he looks like a cat caught his nip nip.”

MC wrinkled her nose at the graphic description, but nonetheless stepped forward to approach Saeran, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Yeah... you’re right. Saeran, you don’t look so good. Do you have a cold? Why are you wrapped up like that?”

“Just... just... because...” Saeran’s voice came out strangled as something under the blanket shifted. “Please don’t come closer,” he mumbled when she approached, clearly intending to check his forehead or something similar to that.

“You’re acting weird,” she pointed out.

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” Saeyoung chimed in, before promptly shrinking at the daggers Saeran began shooting at him again.

“Saeran. There’s a bulge on your stomach. And your hands aren’t under the blanket.” MC’s voice was flat now, and her arms were crossed over her chest, her gaze expectant.

“Heavens, Saeran, are you _pregnant?_ ” Saeyoung breathed. “Look, the baby’s kicking!”

“Of course I’m not pregnant!” Saeran shrieked. The veins in his neck and temple now visible on his tomato-red face. “What are you, stupid? OWW!” He threw his head back, squeezed his eyes shut and winced, unable to maintain his cool composure any longer.

“Okay, seriously, what is going on, Saeran? What are you hiding under this blanket?” MC tugged on the end of the offending fabric, but Saeran desperately clutched onto the other end stubbornly keeping it over him. He wasn’t able to struggle for long though, fingers flying and releasing the cloth from his shaky grip when another wave of pain hit him from whatever it was that was causing him grief.

“What... is that?” MC asked, pointing a hesitant finger at the oddly-shaped bulge under his sweater. “Saeran, what is that?”

A small black and orange tail slipped out from the hem of his sweater. Then the tips of two triangle, pink ears peeked out from the collar of Saeran’s sweater.

Saeyoung’s jaw fell slack. “It’s... It’s...”

“Oh shit.” Saeran shut his eyes, wrapping his arms around the soft furry creature whose claws were still latched onto his nipple through his undershirt, and hunching into a defensive position.

“IT’S A KITTY!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Well then, I guess Christmas came early,” MC said with a smile as she sipped on a mug of hot chocolate, watching the two brothers from the couch as they sat opposite each other, cross-legged on the floor, with the calico kitten standing in between them. It was leaning very much towards Saeran, head brushing against his knee. His wary eyes remained on the older man, who in turn, was staring at the kitten with wide, moist eyes and a scarily huge grin on his face.

“Santa finally answered my prayers and got me a kitten!” Saeyoung gushed. “And she’s the cutest little baby ever!”

“A baby whom you will not touch or violate with those hands of yours, or I will personally dismember you,” Saeran warned fiercely, gently picking up the kitten and placing it on his lap, much to his brother’s disappointment.

“Don’t be like Jumin, you can trust me. I’m a cat lover! I would never do anything to hurt them!”

"No. Back off.”

MC spoke up from where she was, clearly having had enough of watching the two of them bicker like this. Thirty minutes had already passed like this. “Saeran, how about you let Saeyoung hold her? You can observe him to make sure he doesn’t do anything to hurt her, okay? I think he really wants to play with her. Just for a little while?”

Saeran blinked a couple of times in response to her motherly smile. She had said it in a very soothing and patient way, but for some reason he felt mildly offended. It almost felt like he being treated like a child who wouldn’t share his toy. His eyes shifted to his brother, whose lips were now fattened into a pout as he pressed his palms together and mouthed, _“Pretty please?”_

With tremendous reluctance and a long, heavy sigh for emphasis, Saeran picked the kitten off of his lap and placed it in Saeyoung’s.

There was a confused mewl from the kitten as it cocked its head up to meet the bespectacled man who looked like a carbon copy of its benefactor, though he smelled different and had a vastly different aura to him somehow. For a few moments, Saeyoung was like a statue frozen in plaster. He didn’t move, or more likely, didn’t dare to move, with something so precious and fragile in his lap.

Saeran expected Saeyoung to do something crazy like scream and grab the kitten by the paws, and was preparing to beat him up if he actually did something like that. It was why he was at a near complete loss when Saeyoung actually started to cry.

Saeran and MC could only stare at him in shock as tears slid down his cheeks, while his hand hovered over the little kitten’s body, fingers brushing lightly against its soft fur. “Sorry, I just— she’s beautiful.”

“He didn’t even cry when he saw me but he cries when he sees a kitten,” MC muttered under her breath, though a smirk was playing on her lips, indicating that she was just joking. “Saeyoung, are you okay?”

“I-I’m okay,” he replied, hastily removing his glasses to wipe his tears away. “S-Sorry, I don’t even know why I’m crying. I’m just being stupid.”

“Yeah you are,” Saeran responded with a half-hearted scoff. “If you wanted a cat that badly you could have just gotten one.”

“I couldn’t have one while working as an agent,” the older redhead laughed. “Miss Vanderwood would have killed me if he had to clean up after it. And I didn’t have time to take care of it anyway.”

“After settling down with MC and I, you could have gotten one whenever,” Saeran pointed out with an arched brow. “Why wait?”

Saeyoung pondered over the question for a while, gently petting the kitten’s head and directing his thoughtful gaze towards it as he did so. “I don’t really know... I guess part of it is because after everything that happened, I was happy. You and MC... You’re my family now, and some days I still can’t believe it. Sometimes I wake up in the mornings, thinking it was all just a dream, and that the both of you were never in my life at all.”

Saeran lowered his head slightly, casting his vision to the floor. He could relate. Waking up after a nightmare, thinking he was back in the hellish place, tied to a rope in the corner of the room waiting to get beaten, or waking up in the mornings to a quiet bunker with no one in it and thinking that he had been left behind all over again. Like everything had been nothing more than a dream, like everything he had started to allow himself to get used to again — a loving family, a supportive brother he could look up to — had cruelly disappeared in a puff of white smoke.

“When I think about how I have the both of you with me now, how we’re family and finally happy together...” Saeyoung’s lips spread into a brooding smile. “There’s nothing more that I could wish for in this lifetime. We’re not perfect or without our share of scars, but being together... It’s been such a dream, sometimes I think I’m just high on Phd Pepper. So... I guess I never really seriously thought about getting a pet cat — having a new addition to this family.”

There was a beat of appreciative silence, the air soaking up the heavy-laden, emotional words spoken. MC shifted closer to where Saeyoung was so she could rest a comforting hand on his shoulder. When he looked up to meet her eyes, her hand settled in his hair, fingers running through his soft red strands.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the kitten beat her to it with a single, adorable meow that shattered the silence in the room.

“Thank you for comforting me,” he grinned, picking it up and cradling it to his chest with no issues whatsoever. It nuzzled into his cotton shift, paws swiping at the dangling cross over his chest. The action made him break into a hearty laugh, which caused smiles to appear on Saeran and MC’s faces all at once.

“Does she have a name?” MC asked then, looking to Saeran.

The man merely shook his head. “I haven’t named it yet.” He paused then, snapping his fingers once to catch Saeyoung’s attention. “Do you want to name it?”

“Me?” Saeyoung gawked at his brother. “Why don’t you name her? You were the one who found her and brought her home.”

“I’m not good with these things,” he replied. “You look like you have more ideas on what to name a cat.”

“Hmm....” Saeyoung immediately set to thinking, a gleam shining in his golden irises. “Well for starters, there’s Honey, Buddha, Chip, Phd, Pepper, Longcat, MC—”

“You are _not_ naming it after your filthy snacks or that ugly cat mascot,” Saeran argued hotly, which caused his brother to chuckle.

“Or me,” MC added with a warning tone in her voice.

“Of course not, I was just kidding. Learn to take a joke, guys!”

“With you the way you are, it’s hard to distinguish when you’re being serious and when you’re actually just joking,” Saeran retorted under his breath.

“Star.”

Saeran and MC both raised their brows simultaneously. “Star?” MC echoed, curiosity shining in her eyes.

“You know, like a shooting star,” Saeyoung smiled, booping the kitten on the nose. “A star that was wandering around in outer space and was brought to us by a wish. She’s a dream come true.”

“It’s a pretty name,” Saeran agreed, eyes softening at the sight of his brother and his shoulders losing the tension that had built up from all the stress of needing to protect the kitten from his brother. “I like it.”

“Star it is!” MC grinned, reaching over to pet the kitten on the head too, to which it gave a satisfied purr. “I think she likes that name too.”

"Merry Christmas, then. Good to know that you like your gift,” Saeran smiled.

“So she _was_ a gift for me!” Saeyoung exclaimed.

“No, she’s a gift for all of us. And that means I don’t have to get you a present for Christmas anymore.”

"What? But I want a present! And why does MC still get one if I don't?” Saeyoung cried in dismay while MC giggled at the twins’ usual bantering, and all the confused kitten could do was mewl questioningly as Saeyoung proceeded to stand up and attempt to put it at the top of the Christmas tree for a celebratory photo.

(Of course, that never went through because Saeran came to Star’s prompt rescue and proceeded to ban Saeyoung from touching her for the rest of the week.)


	7. Gifts: Saeran x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Saeran makes a wish list with 21 things he wants this Christmas.

Your index finger pressed on the centre of the bottle cap as it rocked the plastic bottle back and forth on the desk. Your other hand was supporting your chin while a thoughtful expression settled on your face, eyebrows furrowed slightly in a frown and your lower lip protruding into a small pout. Saeran’s words played over and over in your head like a broken record. You continued to mull over them, as you had been doing for the past couple of minutes, a little sigh escaping your lips when you looked out the window absently to gaze up at the cloudy sky.

The bottle tilted too far to the right and it fell to the table with a thud, startling you to your senses.

You stared at the fallen bottle for a moment before twisting your lips wryly, squeezing your eyes shut and burying your face in your hands. “What should I do...” you groaned into your palm, all too aware of the weight in your chest that had only grown heavier.

It had been half an hour since you spoke to Saeran in the middle of the action movie that the both of you had been watching in his room, to ask him what he wanted for Christmas. You had realized that you hadn’t asked him before and you had wanted to know if there was anything in particular that he would like to have. You only had a couple days left, after all, and your mind had still been drawing a hopeless blank at the thought of what to give him.

His reply to your question had been rather lacklustre. “I don’t know.”

“But there’s got to be something that you want, right?” you had pressed, sending an eager, curious gaze his way. “Hint?”

He had scrunched up his nose as he pondered a little longer, his eyes dull. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he had nodded, eyes darting upward as he explained, “I’ve never really done things like Christmas parties or gift exchanges before, and I never really liked Christmas so I’ve never wanted anything.”

You had arched an eyebrow at his statement. “Just because you’ve never done a gift exchange or celebrated Christmas before doesn’t mean there isn’t anything that you want.”

He had offered a non-committal hum and a wry shrug of the shoulders.

"Hmm... What about when you were younger? You might have something you wanted and told Santa about a few years back?”

His eyes had dropped then, lips pursing into a thin line as his shoulders stiffened just slightly next to yours. “...I stopped believing in Santa a long time ago.” It was odd, the way his eyes hardened, his golden irises dulling. His voice was almost bitter, and you couldn’t think of a good response other than a quiet and hesitant, “Oh,” to his cold, muted reply. You had recognized that brooding expression, with his lowered head so his bangs fell in his forehead and covered his downcast eyes, and the extra long exhale that he emitted, as though there was a new weight on him that was causing him to deflate. He was remembering. Looking back at memories of old, painful events of his past playing out in his head. You could tell from his unfocused stare into space.

Against your better judgment, the word “Why?” had slipped out from you, causing his pupils to snap back to reality and to meet your gaze. “S-Sorry,” you had hastily added, “If you’re not comfortable talking about it, you don’t have to.”

“It’s not really a big deal,” he had replied drily. In return, you offered him a small, encouraging smile and gave him a little squeeze on the shoulder, but that appeared to do little to help lift his spirits.

“For starters, Santa isn’t real. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out,” he had stated, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “He’s just a lie made up by adults to control and manipulate their children into behaving the way they want them to in exchange for a present. Adults are the ones who decide who’s naughty or nice, which is stupid, since they can just do or say whatever they want.”

“Well, that’s one way of looking at it...” Considering his past, you didn’t find his rather grim view of Christmas and Santa all that surprising.

“It’s stupid that kids are so easily tricked into believing there’s a guy out there who’d give them presents,” he had muttered sourly, turning his gaze back to the computer screen, though you could tell he was no longer in the mood to continue watching, his mind clearly elsewhere then, in a place full of scars sealed away deep within him. Your heart began to throb in your chest, the growing heaviness in the air weighing on your shoulders as you stared at him, brows knitted in concern.

You didn’t really know what to say, other than sit there next to him in silence for a while, until he stood up and left the room, saying he wanted to make some hot chocolate.

And so here you were now, sitting at Saeran’s desk, mulling over his words from earlier while he was still outside. You were pretty sure it didn't take thirty minutes to make two mugs of hot chocolate. He was probably just hiding out in the kitchen and taking some time to collect his thoughts alone. You bit down on your bottom lip, a pang of guilt hitting you for bringing up a sore memory for him yet again.

" _...I never really liked Christmas...”_

You always kind of knew that he didn’t like Christmas, and you could hazard a guess as to the multiple disappointments that he had to face as a child each time this season came around. Growing up in that kind of household with a mother who didn’t love him, it was only natural for him to grow to hate a season that celebrated and favored only the “nice” children, while the “naughty” children like him were simply cast aside and left alone with empty hands.

Something inside you shattered when you pictured a young Saeran, crying on Christmas day with only bruises battering his pale body, red marks on his trembling palms. The mental image caused a fierce determination to bubble up in your chest. You needed to make up for all the years that he had spent without a single happy Christmas, and there just might be a way for you to do that.

Grabbing a pen and a piece of paper from his notepad on the desk, you began writing.

 

* * *

 

Saeran returned to the room with two mugs of relatively warm hot chocolate. He left them standing on the counter for too long, since he got carried away with his thoughts earlier. He hoped she won’t mind lukewarm chocolate for a change.

A small pang of guilt came like a slap to the face when he recalled the downtrodden expression she showed him when he started his rant about how he didn’t believe in Santa and all that.

_Great going, idiot. All she wanted was to know what to get you this Christmas and you had to trample all over her excitement._

He huffed an angry exhale at himself, and he glanced down at the two mugs in his hands, silently hoping that she wasn’t too upset at him. The plan was to try to humour her for a bit, maybe just tell her that he wanted socks or a scarf or something that would be easy enough to get. He didn’t want her spending too much time or money on him, after all. He didn’t deserve it. Not a bad kid like him who only dragged her spirits down and made her beautiful, precious smile disappear whenever he acted up like the stupid brat he was.

So he opened the door, his lips parting as he prepared to apologize to her and give her the drink to see that smile of hers again.

It was why he didn’t expect a piece of paper to slap him right in the face the moment the door swung open fully.

“Hey Saeran, guess what? I just got the best idea ever!” He could hear her jumping up and down on the floor and the broad grin in her excited voice. She was acting like a kid who had just opened her presents on Christmas morning, and it was cuter than he would like to admit. He sighed inwardly in relief, glad that he had been worrying all for nothing earlier. She was back to her bubbly self and it looked like she managed to entertain herself well enough in his room while he was in the kitchen.

That relief was quick to subside and turn into mild irritation, however.

He swatted her hand away, scolding, “Stop that! My hands are full, you’re going to me spill everything.”

“Oh, sorry,” she sang unapologetically, humming a happy tune as she skipped aside to let him place her mug on the table while he sipped on his. He made a face at how cold it’d become.

“What’s that?” he asked, unable to maintain his frown that was rapidly melting away from the heat of his cheeks and the brilliance radiating from her gorgeous smile.

“Here. Sit down first.” She got off his chair and pushed him to make him sit down, nearly causing him to spill his drink in her haste. She shushed his complaints, ignoring him as she placed a pen in his hand and set the paper down in front of him.

 _“A Christmas Wish List: 21 Things I Want This Christmas,_ ” was written in bold, black ink and underlined. There was a tiny snowman drawn in the top right-hand corner too, no doubt added because she was bored.

“What’s that?” he asked again, looking at her expectantly.

She gave him an exaggerated sigh in response. “It reads, ‘A Christmas Wish List: 21 Things—”

"I can read, no thanks for the narration,” he cut in, scowling at her, though that only made her teasing smirk deepen. “What I meant was, what kind of game are you playing now?”

“It’s not a game,” she protested, slamming her pointer finger down to the blank space below the grand title for emphasis. “You have to write down 21 things that you want for Christmas.”

“Why?”

"So that I can get you everything you want for Christmas and make this Christmas a happy one for you,” she answered with a gleeful smile, which he only returned with a grimace.

“Seriously, you don’t have to get me anything. I already told you I don’t want—”

"There’s got to be things that you want,” she insisted, blowing out her cheeks and her brows turning downwards, forming the beginnings of an impatient frown. “Just write them all down.”

“But I can’t write 21 things! That’s too many!”

“You can do it. You can crack insane math problems and hack into high security networks, you can definitely think of 21 things you want for Christmas if you use that genius brain of yours,” she shot back, tapping lightly at his temple with a smile.

He could only groan in defeat. There was simply no way he could deny those sparkling eyes of hers.

“Fine,” he sighed, clicking the pen open. “Just... give me some time to think.”

The exercise was harder than he thought it would be. Saeran would have much preferred it if she had handed him an intense math problem created by Saeyoung, rather than attempt this. It was... weird, and his mind kept drawing blanks whenever he thought about something he really wanted for Christmas. Of course, she wasn’t about to take “nothing” for an answer, so by hook or by crook, he would have to wring his brain dry to think of 21 things to write down on the piece of paper.

There were actually many ways to avoid having to think seriously about 21 gifts he wanted, but each time he put something like “21 days of omelettes for breakfast” or “21 kisses”, she would reject his answer and chide him for cheating his way out of it.

And so the time he spent on this simple exercise stretched on for hours, as he sat there in his chair, lost in his thoughts, while the colour of the sky gradually faded from a bright blue to a messy splash of pink and orange colours.

By the time he was finished, the sun had almost disappeared behind the bald trees in the distance, and when he looked back, she was curled up in a ball, sleeping peacefully on his bed. Her breaths were soft and regular, blowing out at the strands of hair that had fallen in her face, causing them to flutter and fall in a dance. Her hair was splayed out on the bed, a waterfall of hazel brown spilling into the sheets.

The sight was enough to nearly stop his heart entirely. He was about to call her name to wake her up and let her know that he was finally done, but his voice promptly died in his throat when his eyes swept over her peacefully sleeping form. Carefully, he rose from his seat, lightly padding towards the bed so he could pull the blanket that her legs had kicked to the side over her body. His fingers brushed past her toes as he reached for the blanket, and he was surprised by how cold they were. He quickly tucked the woollen blanket over her, not wanting her to catch a cold.

She stirred a little, nose scrunching and incoherent mumblings filling the air. Then she fell silent once more, the corner of her lip tugging up in a little smile as she snuggled into the warmth of the blanket that he put over her.

Satisfied, he sat back down on his chair and swivelled it around so he was facing her. His lips pulled back into a wide smile. She didn’t know, but watching her sleep was one of his favourite past times. There was something so calming about watching her serene face, knowing that she was safe with him watching over her, and being able to stare at her for as long as he wished without blushing or feeling nervous like he normally would whenever he was with her.

At times like these, Saeran felt like the luckiest man in the world, to have someone like her all to himself.

He glanced back down at the list he had, eyes skimming through the things he had written down.

 

_ A Christmas Wish List: 21 Things I Want This Christmas _

  1. _For Saeyoung and MC to have a happy Christmas together._
  2. _To wake up on Christmas morning with you by my side._
  3. _To make pancakes with you on Christmas morning. And use up the entire bottle of maple syrup on mine._
  4. _To share a scarf with you when we sit at the park to watch the sky together._
  5. _To eat ice cream with you and get brain-freeze together._
  6. _To stay at home when it snows too heavily and watch movies or play games together in my room._
  7. _To put up the Christmas tree with you. I’ll get a super tall tree so you’ll need me to carry you up in order to put the star on top._
  8. _To bake Christmas cookies together._
  9. _To go Christmas shopping with you and get you the perfect present._
  10. _For the four of us — you, Saeyoung, MC and I — to have a big Christmas dinner with roast turkey and cookies and ice cream and eat till we’re so full we can’t move for an hour._
  11. _For Saeyoung to stop singing “Santa baby” in his disgusting Santa cosplay. It’s not sexy._
  12. _For MC to stop singing along with Saeyoung._
  13. _To have a snowball fight with Saeyoung and win._
  14. _To try ice-skating for the first time._
  15. _To kiss you when the first snow falls._
  16. _To cuddle with you by the fire whenever I want. Stop stealing my hot chocolate._
  17. _For Saeyoung to stop worrying about me all the time and to start living for himself too._
  18. _For Saeyoung, MC, and you to always smile and be happy._
  19. _For the three of you to live a long, happy life._
  20. _For the four of us to create lots of new, happy memories this Christmas and for the years to come._
  21. _For time to stand still so I can live in this moment — this happiness that I could only dream of for years — forever._



 

She was definitely going to laugh at him for all the embarrassing things he had written, though he didn’t mind all that much. He hated being the fool, but for her, there was no end to the foolish things he would do.

He was, after all, nothing more than a fool who had stumbled and fallen hopelessly in love for her.

“You know,” he whispered, eyes trained on her still sleeping form. It was getting darker now, the evening rays of sun only illuminating half of her face. “I don’t look like it, but this winter, I’ve been happy every single day because of you. I don’t need to be showered in gifts or presents to be happy this Christmas. But... if Santa was real, there’s only one thing I’d ask for: for this moment — you — to freeze in time and never change. For you to always stay by my side, and to spend every single Christmas together with me from now on. I may have been born a bad kid, and maybe I’ll never make it to the “nice” list no matter what I do, but if you wish for the same thing, then maybe... maybe this will stay the same and this dream will come true.”

The sun’s rays were slowly dimming and fading, covering the room with a soothing darkness that hid his reddening face and muted the sound of his erratically pumping heart. He could still see her, the outline of her sleeping body, the messy strands of hair strewn all over his sheets.

He stood up again, quietly stepping over to place the list on the pillow by her head. “I love you, my most precious gift,” he murmured, before leaning down to tenderly press his lips to her forehead. She stirred once more, whispering his name in a sleepy slur, causing him to chuckle affectionately. Unable to resist, he leaned down to kiss her once more.


	8. Christmas Baking: Saeyoung x MC

There was a time in his life when Saeyoung hated the kitchen. Besides the fact that it reminded him of his horrendous cooking skills, it had been a place that was mostly empty. Empty pantries. Mostly empty fridge. Empty sink, because he couldn’t bother to scrounge up enough of an appetite to actually eat a meal needing of dishes. 

Then, she came into his life, and subsequently his kitchen, like a whirlwind.

She banished the room of its hallow atmosphere, stocking it with snacks and ingredients, albeit healthier than he would've like. The sink was almost always brimming with plates, pots, pans, utensils. And when it wasn’t, she was prompting him to eat something—a command he obeyed greedily. For first time in his life, his hunger was a ravenous beast, spurned by happiness and contentment.

It was why he was ambling towards the once desolate room only hours after dinner was consumed. 

But, his feet froze a few strides short of the doorway when a sweetness wafted through the air. Normally, MC prepared her nightly jasmine tea around this time, filling most of the bunker with that delicate aroma. But this was hardly jasmine…it was thicker—and warmer. 

Saeyoung’s mouth was already watering as his brain recognized the deliciously tantalizing smell of vanilla. He hurried to the entrance and found his suspicions confirmed. “You’re making cookies—mmph!”

MC abruptly slapped a hand over his mouth, her own finger pressed against her lips. “Shh!” She hissed, peering behind him to the hallway. “Do you want to summon Saeran?” 

Saeyoung snorted, causing her to retract her hand with a grimace. “You say that like he’s a scary monster.” 

“A Cookie Monster,” MC nodded solemnly. “I’ll give him some, but…I kind of want to make them first. You know how he is with cookie dough.” 

She shifted to the side to reveal the disaster on the counter. Streaks of flour lined the marble top, chocolate chips and smears of peanut butter painted the normally clean surface. Saeyoung was pretty sure he saw icing splattering the tiles and the cabinets in the far corner. 

"How many cookies are you making?” He breathed in awe. Already, three metal bowls filled with uncooked batter stood tall in the midst of the chaos. 

“Five kinds, and three batches of each,” she shrugged. 

Saeyoung’s stomach grumbled as another wave of vanilla hit his nostrils. Enchanted by the confectionary spell, his finger reached into the nearest bowl and swiped a generous amount of the creamy, raw goodness. He stuck it in his mouth, an unearthly groan squeezing from his throat. 

“Hey!” MC gasped. A mix of betrayal and horror spread across her features as her eyes darted between his finger and his mouth. “You’re just as bad!” 

“Sorry,” he said, ducking his head before taking another scoop with his thumb and shoving it into his mouth. He recoiled at the sting of the spoon swatted against his hand. “Ouch! That was the last one, I promise!” 

She set aside the metal utensil in favor of a spatula and pointed it towards him with a threatening jab into the air. “It better be.” 

Saeyoung squeaked and hid behind his fingers. “Oh, so scary,” he said, successfully eliciting a laugh on her part. 

While she preoccupied herself with adding to her mess of flour and butter, Saeyoung waltzed over to the counter and sat on one of the island chairs with a flourishing spin. 

He had every intention to watch her—and help if she so asked, when a mini mountain of wrinkled papers caught his eye. They lay sloppily scattered across the the only slab of countertop that was free of baking debris. They seemed old too. The parchment was tainted a yellowish-brown, and splatters of unknown substances stained the corners. But the thing that made them appear so ancient was the fact that they were handwritten. 

He traced the lettering with his index finger, almost afraid it would smudge with the oil on his skin. “What is this?” He asked, though he could clearly read “Chocolate Chip Cookies Recipe” scribbled across the top. 

“An old family recipe,” she replied in between rhythmic beating of a whisk against metal. 

Saeyoung wasn’t sure why her answer left a resonating pang in his chest. “Oh,” was all he could manage. 

The whisking ceased. He was aware of MC’s gaze shifting towards him, flaying him with the concern that was no doubt pooling in her eyes. But, it wasn’t enough to tear his focus from the tattered document. 

Despite having sworn off his past altogether, he sometimes wondered about his own family tradition. His mother was the worst parent to him and his brother, and their father’s benevolence was still ambiguous and would probably remain so. But biologically, he had a family tree. Grandparents…great-grandparents…a whole line of people who had normal families with things like Christmas traditions, funny stories, heirlooms. 

How much of that had he lost as casualties of his tragic life? 

“Saeyoung?” MC called, startling him out of his trance. 

His eyes stung as he blinked for the first time in nearly a minute. He dashed away the smarting tears with his thumb. Clearing his throat, he leaned an elbow onto the counter in attempts to appear casual and forced a smile. “Yeah, sorry. Blanked out.” 

Her brows wrinkled in a furrow just as her teeth drew along her bottom lip. Once again, her eyes flickered over his body, inundating him with that worried frown. “You okay? You went paler than this cookie dough.”

Her attempt at levity did little against the sudden weight inside Saeyoung’s chest. Absentmindedly, he dug his thumb into the area above his ribs. His mouth grew dry, and he debated whether he should even say anything. “I was just thinking…” he said finally. “About tradition. And how—well, I’ve never had any Christmas traditions.”

“Not everyone does,” she replied. The bowl hit the marble with a clink, and her hand reached across the counter to cover his. They were a little sticky, but that had no effect on their usual warmth. “But does it bother you?" 

“Kind of,” he muttered. He threw his head back, preferring to look at the ceiling instead of the unspoken condolences rolling off of his wife. “It’s something I wanted to do as a kid, you know? Even if it was just with Saeran. The only Christmas tradition we ever had was trying to escape the wrath of our more-than-usual drunk mother.” 

A humorless chuckle stole from his throat. He made the mistake of looking back at MC. Her face had grown exceptionally long in the few seconds he had averted his gaze. Her bright irises dimmed, the rosiness on her cheeks fled, and the ever-present smile on her lips was replaced by a dismal frown. 

Panicked that he’d ruined her entire evening, he hurriedly grabbed the hand covering his. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “I didn’t mean to make this all depressing. I was just overthinking. Forget it, okay?” 

She shook her head, her thumb grazing over his palm. Saeyoung swallowed hard. Had he made her so upset that she couldn’t even speak? Eager to fix it, he extracted himself from her grip and grabbed the metal bowl and whisk. “I’ll make it up to you! I’ll help.” 

“Saeyoung…” 

“No, it’s fine,” he said, brushing off the grave tone behind her voice. “Should I put some Christmas music on too?” 

He was painfully aware of her reticence. Still, he beat the butter and sugar with increasing vigor, hoping the quickening tempo would prompt her to add the next ingredient and leave the entire conversation behind. He should’ve known better. 

Her fingers appeared in his line of sight. Their gentle touch was enough to make his tense hands yield and slow to a stop. He let out a huff and released the bowl into her hold before resting his head against her shoulder. 

He felt her comb through his hair with her signature kindness dispelling the void in his chest just as she did within the very room they stood. 

“Saeyoung,” she repeated softly. “It’s okay that you didn’t have everything. But it’s equally okay to want those things. I know that everything we do now won’t always make up for what happened—or what didn’t happen. But, you know you can ask for them, right? Especially from me.”

“Yeah,” he rasped. He buried his face further into her shoulder, his arms winding their way around her waist. As he pulled her closer, that tang of vanilla drifted from her skin and filled his head, serving as a balm to his nerves. “Can I ask for some more cookie dough then?” 

Her chest vibrated underneath him as she laughed. With a barely grudging sigh, she pushed him back into the seat. She grabbed a spoon off the counter and heaped it with a charitable amount of dough before offering it to him. “Only because I love you.” 

He replied with a tiny smile, his tongue lapping at the gooey mix. MC watched him for awhile, her own smile gradually matching his. Then all at once, she stiffened. “What’s wrong?” He asked. 

She beamed up at him, her hands gripping the side of his chair and spinning it around. “I got it!” She said, making her way to the pantry. It was a miracle she didn’t slip on the stray mixture spotting the floor. “Family recipes are usually just a main recipe with some added things here and there that supposedly make it better, right?” 

Saeyoung glanced sideways at the stack of papers again. Baking was not his area of expertise, but he’d humor her. “Uh, I guess,” he drawled. 

“So, let’s make our own,” she announced. She produced an extra apron from the pantry and extended the crumpled cloth to him. “A Choi family recipe. How does that sound?” 

It sounded wonderful.

She waited for his verbal reply, practically bouncing on her toes. It was almost as if her entire body was trembling with giddiness, and the best part was that it was infecting him too. Saeyoung’s head was buzzing, though he wasn’t sure whether it was from ideas or from sheer elation. 

He calmed himself for a brief moment, his instinctual logic giving him a mental kick. “MC…you don’t have to do this just for me.” 

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Who says it’s just for you?” She said, though her softened features betrayed her intent. “I want our children to have something especially from us. We would be pretty boring parents without at least a disaster story, if not a recipe.” 

Saeyoung’s face heated at the mention of “their children”, but he managed a few easy laughs. “Okay,” he said, taking the apron from his hands. “Thank you.” 

She gave him a shy nod as she fingered through the stack of papers in search of a base recipe. 

He expelled a sharp breath as he waited. Even with the new resolution, the solemnity in the air was palpable, and Saeyoung was mentally slapping himself for it. Baking was supposed to be fun—not birthed from stress. This wasn’t an episode off of Grandpa Lamsay’s show, after all. He desperately needed to fix it.

Racking his brain for a way to lighten the mood, he slid the smock over his head. A pleased smirk yanked at the edge of his mouth as he read the print on the cloth. Bingo.

“Hey, MC,” he said, grabbing her attention away from the pile. “Did you do this on purpose?” 

He stretched out the cloth so she could better read the “Kiss the Cook.” Judging by the blush blooming across her cheeks, she hadn't. He leaned towards her, his lips puckered and emitting exaggerating smooching sounds. 

MC turned her head at the last moment, leaving Saeyoung to nearly plummet through the air. He caught himself against the counter and shot a glare in her direction. 

“It says ‘cook’,” she said. “We’re baking.” 

Saeyoung opened his mouth to reply, but she had a point. Fine. If she wanted to play that way…

He bumped her aside with his hip, ignoring her cry of protest. He opened the drawer and sorted through the litter of rubber bands, vitamins, and candles until he found a plain black marker. He wedged the top in between his teeth, and it came flying off with a pop. He crossed off the offending word on the apron and replaced it with a sloppily written, “Baker.” 

“There!” he cried in triumph, turning to proudly display his deed to his wife who was gaping at him through grin. 

She took a few steps forward before cupping his face and bringing it down to place a peck on his lips. “You’re too much.”

He hummed in satisfaction, nudging the tip of his nose into the bridge of hers. “Must’ve picked it up from you.” 

A gasp spluttered from her mouth. She flattened her palms against his chest and shoved him in the opposite direction. “Don’t be cheeky,” she scolded with zero conviction. “Let’s just get started.”

* * *

If the kitchen was in disarray before Saeyoung arrived, it was a war zone after nearly two hours of his experimenting. MC couldn’t bring herself to mind though. Not when he seemed so….happy. It was the only word to describe the light radiating from his face, even when he wasn’t smiling. 

Even now, he wasn’t. His mouth was curled downwards in a concentrated scowl as he carefully lined a batch of cookies with icing. His brows were almost knitted together, and MC had to suppress the beguiled squeak churning in her throat every time his tongue peeked out from the edge of his lips like a little kitten. 

She was equally as happy. She had been joking slightly when she mentioned the start of a new tradition to pass down, but actually creating one…it was solidifying them as family. 

She dusted the flour off her hands and abandoned her newest batch of cookies in favor of admiring the objects of her husband’s efforts. He had decorated quite a few with his childish caricatures made from sprinkles and icing. Granted, there were only about a dozen little biscuits that had actually survived the baking process. The first batch didn’t rise, and the second turned to coal while Saeyoung and MC had been distracted in a flour fight. 

But she was proud of the fruit of their labor. They hadn’t tasted any yet, but they hadn’t veered off much from the basic cookie recipe they had started with. 

MC peered over Saeyoung’s shoulder to get a glimpse of his current endeavor, which had taken the most of his time so far. She watched as he piped on red curly hair on two cookies shaped like gingerbread. He had already detailed the face as best he could with golden sprinkles for eyes and more red icing for shirts. “Are you making you and Saeran?” She cooed, noting the similarities. 

“Nope,” he replied, never breaking focus. “It’s the first two of our children.” 

MC choked on her next breath. 

“It’s what?” She wheezed through her coughing fit. Heat flooded her face—no, her entire body—when she caught the smirk unfurling in the corner of his mouth. “You’re teasing me."

He turned on her with wide eyes and flimsy piping bag. “You started it with the whole kids talk. I’m thinking about making some more though. We have another two gingerbread. Do you think four kids is too few, MC?” 

She swiped some of icing that had fallen onto the counter and smeared it across his smug face. He recoiled, but still released a few chuckles. “Shut up and taste one of the cookies already,” she whined. She poked at one of his elaborately embellished cookies shaped like a tree. 

“Do you think they’ll taste good?” He asked, lifting one to his nose and taking a tentative sniff. “They smell fine.” 

She urged him just to take a bite. He sunk his teeth into one end, mulling the piece in his mouth for a little while. His brows rose all the way to his bangs, and he shot her a thumbs up. “Mmmm!” He hummed.

MC grinned and extracted the other half from his hold. She was glad they had turned out well. Maybe this would save them from another experimenting session next year. 

She eagerly chomped down on the biscuit, slightly unnerved by its softness. At first, it tasted like nothing, and then it tasted sweet--like sugar and vanilla. She was about to praise their concoction until it hit. A salty, bitter, almost sour flavor attacked her tastebuds, and it took everything within her not to gag.

“You tricked me,” she said through the half-chewed disaster in her mouth. 

Saeyoung grimaced and spit his own mush into his hand. “But at what cost?” He shuddered. 

Unable to take the acrid flavor anymore, she pulled his hand down and spewed the food into his palm. “Sorry,” she muttered when he tensed. 

“You are so lucky I love you,” he muttered. He dumped the reject into the bin before thoroughly washing his hands. 

MC deflated into the chair behind her. “Sorry it didn’t come out so well. I was really hoping we had something.” 

“I don’t mind,” he replied, rubbing his hand against a towel. He tossed it to the side and glomped onto her side in a hug. His voice lowered into something more solemn as he spoke. “Even if we never find our own recipe, let’s make this a tradition. You, me, and tons and tons of flour every year. Saeran can join in too, if he promises not to eat everything.” 

She laughed, slipping her arms around him to return to the embrace. “Sounds good to me.” 

Their moment was cut short when a familiar set of footsteps thudded down the hall. Saeran slid into the doorway, a franticness glazing over his green eyes. They darted about the room, only to narrow in on the counter. “I knew I smelled cookies.” 

MC opened her mouth to warn him, but her words were muffled into Saeyoung’s hand. His mouth turned upwards in a wide grin, and she knew exactly where this was going. “Yeah, we made some!” 

She knew she shouldn’t have.

Not with Saeran being so innocent as he dropped over those cookies. But she couldn’t resist it. Besides, she’d just give him a dozen of the good ones later. She scooped a bunch in her hand and offered them to the younger twin. “They’re all for you actually. Surprise!” 

“Thanks,” he muttered, though he had an appropriate amount of skepticism. 

Saeyoung and MC stood from their seats, not bothering to watch him eat. By the time they heard the crunch, they were already by the doorway. 

“What the heck!” 

“And, that’s our cue to run,” Saeyoung said. 

They bolted down the hall rushing to the safety of their bedroom lest Saeran bypass the security of every other room in the house. They slammed the door shut behind them, hearts racing and legs wobbling. 

“Do you think he’ll be mad long?” MC asked. 

A laugh burst from Saeyoung’s mouth. “Either way, it was worth it. Did you see his face?” 

MC groaned, already imagining the hundreds of antics that would follow her husbands incorrigible pranks. “I just hope that my chocolate chip cookies will be enough to appease him later. As much as our attempted tradition went bust, I don’t want it to be our first and last attempt.” 

Saeyoung softened as he turned to her. “Even if it is,” he said with a kiss to her cheek. “I’m happy to die next to you.” 

“Saeyoung!” She cried in the midst of his giggles. 

He was impossible, but she still looked forward to many more Christmas nights with him in the future.


	9. Christmas Baking: Saeran x Reader

“Oi. That dough ball is way too big. Do you not know how to estimate the amounts of dough to roll per cookie? And look, there’re so many cracks in that one there, it looks like it will fall apart any second now.”

Annoyance rises in the form of heat crawling up your neck and ears, causing your face to flush and your eye to twitch a couple of times. Before the critic sitting atop the kitchen counter can open his mouth to grate on your eardrums with more criticisms, you abruptly crush the dough that you were rolling in your fist, sending a sharp, piercing glare at his red, fluffy bed head.

"Saeran,” you bite out through gritted teeth. “Can you leave me alone for just one sec and let me bake in peace?”

“The deal was for me to not eat the cookie dough. You didn’t say I had to keep quiet,” he points out evenly, totally unfazed by your glare. He does, however, purse his lips when his brow arches at yet another mistake that he spots with his eagle eyes, choosing to keep silent for the first time since you started.

Good grief. If only your oven wasn’t broken. Coming over to the bunker to bake is as good as asking for a premature death due to high blood pressure. Today would have been an exception, since Saeyoung and MC had told you that Saeran would be at Yoosung’s place to game. But as fortune — or rather, misfortune — would have it, Yoosung had some last minute errands to do with his family that he couldn’t turn down, thus leaving Saeran with nothing to do at home, that is, until you came along and he caught you at the door with all your baking supplies.

And so your brilliant plan to surprise him with some cookies for tomorrow’s date went up in a big, pitiful puff of white smoke.

“You’re going to give me a headache if you keep nagging at me like an old grandma,” you complain with an eye roll. “If you have so many problems with the cookies then feel free to _not_ eat them.”

That catches his attention immediately, and his head snaps up so his eyes, wide and indignant, meet your narrowed ones. “Hey, you said you’re making these cookies for me. You promised. You break your promise and I will go over there and eat all the cookie dough before you dish it all out to unintended and unwelcome recipients.” To prove his point, he jumps off the counter in one smooth, graceful swoop, and starts marching over to the table where you are seated with the batter and trays of dough balls. You make a horrified squeak, standing up and holding out your dough-covered palm to his face to stop him physically.

“Step _away_ from the cookies, Saeran. I’m warning you.”

“Or what?” It’s infuriating how he almost looks bored at your hollow threat, even though you’re putting on your fiercest face possible. The corners of his lips tug up in a lazy smirk when you pause, trying to think of a good threat to use against him.

“Or I will... not... bake for you ever again,” you finish in a rapid decrescendo, internally cursing at your brain for drawing a blank at a time when you need it to work the most. You mainly blame him though. It’s hard to think when he’s standing so close, face just inches from yours, sweet peppermint breath filling the air in between your noses, and flashing you that loose smirk that always makes your heart skip a beat. The worst part? He knows it, and is doing little to hide the amusement twinkling in his golden irises. He’s the worst tease.

“Yoosung makes better comebacks,” he says, the curve of his lips deepening when your nostrils flare and you gape at his offensive statement. You’re about to give him a piece of your mind and smear the dough all over his face just for good measure when he catches your wrist and adds, “But fine, I won’t get close to the cookies.”

With that said, he tugs your palm towards the side of his face. Your brows furrow in confusion, until you notice the tip of his tongue slip past his pale pink lips. His face angles to the side, giving you a nice view of his jaw line, and he pulls your hand closer and closer.

The frown on your face crumbles like slipping sand, melting into shock and red-faced embarrassment the moment you feel his warm tongue brushes against the cold surface of your palm that’s sticky and coated with the dark brown substance. He licks up a small bit of the dark chocolate, eyes shifting to meet your flushing face, without so much as batting an eyelash. You want to tell him to stop, but your voice catches in your throat the moment you part your lips to speak. He arches his brow in a silent question, eyes still on you as he licks up more of the chocolate, savouring it. His tongue is ticklish on your skin, the strange sensation unnerving you. All you can do is hastily look away to avert his piercing gaze, and try to tug your hand out of his grip. He only lets go after your third attempt, and a strangled groan erupts from the base of your throat as you elbow his arm, pushing past him to get to the sink to wash off the chocolate and his cooties.

The water comes gushing out when you turn the faucet up all the way, causing it to splash all the way to your forearms. Not that you really noticed, since your mind was elsewhere, fixated on the image of him licking the chocolate off your palm. You rub your hands together furiously, trying to wash them clean of all traces where his tongue had been. It’s hard to resist the urge to splash some water on your face to cool it down while you’re at it. Your cheeks are as hot as a wildfire and you curse your luck for the day once more. You’re starting to regret your goodwill in coming here to bake for your stupid teasing boyfriend who enjoys making a fool out of you to entertain himself.

You throw a glance over your shoulder, just to make sure he isn't trying anything funny while you’re preoccupied with trying to compose yourself and thinking of a way to get back at him for catching you off guard like that earlier.

All that falls within your line of vision is him sticking his dirty little hand into the mixing bowl that’s half-filled with cookie dough. He looks like Winnie the Pooh struck gold with a jar full of sweet, sweet honey. The sneak.

There’s not a drop of remorse in his eyes when he looks up and realizes that he’s been caught red-handed. He merely maintains eye contact and a straight face as he licks off the lump of chocolate batter on his index finger, before stating, “I think you should have put more sugar in this.”

“Boohoo. Last I checked, your opinion wasn’t in the recipe,” you snap, before marching over and grabbing a rubber spatula lying on the table and smacking his wrist with it. He winces from the sting, and complains, “Of course it is! You’re making these cookies for _me_.”

“I won’t be anymore if you try to swipe more cookie dough,” you warn, shaking the rubber spatula at the petulant man’s face.

In response, he wordlessly holds the end of the spatula firmly and swipes off the remnants of batter on it with his index finger to eat.

You feel your eye twitch in irritation. There really is no end to his unhealthy obsession with cookie dough and anything sweet, is there? You make a mental note to get back at him by giving him extra bitter cookies the next time. Cookie Monster needs to be taught a lesson.

“Okay, that’s it,” you announce with an exasperated sigh. “You’re banned from the kitchen. Leave. Now.”

“Don't want to,” he retorts childishly, plopping down on a chair and letting his face hover dangerously closely to the dough balls on the trays. He closes his eyes and inhales the scent of sweet chocolate wafting in the air. “How long more till they’ll be done?” he asks.

“Never, if you’re going to stay there and eat up all the dough.”

He ponders over your sarcastic remark for a moment. You can tell he’s actually seriously considering it. “Stop eating the cookie dough!” You’re ready to tear the hair clear out of your scalp when he reaches into the mixing bowl and retrieves a sizeable lump of dough once more.

“I’m not going to eat it,” he replies with a roll of the eyes. “I’m going to help, so we’ll be done faster. I’m hungry, you know.”

“Fine, fine,” you mutter in defeat, plopping down into the chair next to him. You don’t even have the energy to scold him for what seems like the hundredth time when he sucks the dough off his thumb when it won’t come off.

Oh well. At least he’s having fun. You notice how his eyes are gleaming with excitement and the way his lips are pulled back in a loose smile as he carefully rolls the dough into pretty little balls and places them neatly on the tray.

After rolling a couple more balls with no issues whatsoever, his nose gets itchy, and he rubs at it with his knuckles, inadvertently staining his cheek and upper lip with chocolate dough because his hands are practically covered in the sticky substance. He doesn’t seem to notice it, which causes you to chuckle. He looks even more adorable working hard with his face dirty like a child’s.

“I have dough on my face, don’t I?” he asks flatly, having heard you snickering to yourself.

“Yeah, you do. I’ll help.” You reach over, and before he can protest, you smear more dough on his cheek, leaving a long brown streak diagonally down his left cheek, ending at his jaw.

He glares at you while you laugh, proud of yourself for pulling that off so smoothly.

You’re having so much fun mocking him that you’re unable to react in time when he returns the favour with a generous serving of batter smeared across your nose and curving down your cheek. All you can manage is an shriek of his name.

It’s now his turn to double over in laughter, and you return that evenly by dipping your hand into the mixing bowl and spreading a lump of batter across his mouth to shut him up.

Before long, the kitchen turns into a fierce battlefield, where the both of you take turns to disfigure each other’s faces with cookie dough. Peals of laughter bounce off the kitchen walls as you chase each other around in circles, both armed with handfuls of batter and both determined to emerge victorious.

By the end of it, both of you are keeled over on the floor, trying to catch your breaths and soothe your cramping abdominal muscles. You reach into the mixing bowl that’s lying on its side on the floor, and you’re utterly dismayed to find that it’s been completely emptied of its contents.

“There’s no more dough left! There’s not going to be enough cookies!” you groan.

Saeran raises his hands in surrender. “Not my fault. You started this food fight.” He grimaces when he notices tiny clumps of dough in his bangs. “What are you, five?”

“Says you,” you shoot back indignantly. “You wouldn’t stop eating the dough either.”

"At least I didn’t waste it all by playing with it.”

“Hey, you used more dough than me. I’m sure of it.”

“I wasn’t about to sit back and let you destroy my face without doing anything back.”

“Well, me neither,” you harrumph, folding your arms across your chest, before belatedly realizing that there’s dough streaks on your arms and you just got dough all over the front of your shirt.

Saeran snorts, having spotted your mistake, and you stick your tongue out childishly at him. Getting to your feet, you place the mixing bowl back on the table and stare at the twenty-two miserable dough balls on it. “I’m never baking here again,” you declare. “Actually, I’m never baking with _you_ around ever again.”

“You say that every time,” he comments with a disapproving shake of the head.

“I mean it this time.”

“Sure you do,” he states dismissively, before reaching out a finger to swipe off some dough from your cheek to lick it off. The action takes you aback completely, and you take a couple of steps back, hand outstretched to keep him from coming closer.

“W-What was that for?!”

“I’m hungry,” he replies nonchalantly, taking your hand to move it aside and run his thumb across the corner of your bottom lip. The contact leaves a scorching hot trail on your skin. He then pulls his hand back to unabashedly suck on the extra dough that he retrieved with his thumb.

“T-Then eat something else!” Flushing, you swat his hand away when he reaches out for more. “Stop licking it off me!”

“But it’s good,” he grins, edging closer to you now. On any other day, you would never give up the chance to admire Saeran’s bright summer smile and observe the fresh sparkle in his eyes. They always remind you of diamonds glittering on the surface of the ocean.

Right now though, his grin and darkening eyes make your blood run cold as he inches closer and closer, hands reaching out, no doubt for more of the cookie dough soiling your skin.

“Don’t you dare,” you mutter, stepping back and gasping when your back hits the wall. “Don’t come any closer. Or I’ll scream.”

Cookie Monster doesn’t care though. All he sees is the cookie dough and all he smells is the sweet, heavenly scent of chocolate and of your fear.

“Go ahead,” he smiles wickedly, tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. “Try me.”

You can’t stop the squeal that escapes you when he lunges and begins attacking you with a shower of soft little kisses, holding you tightly to him with his arms as a cage to keep you from escaping while you squirm about with all your might, trying in vain to hide your face from the ticklish assaults of affection.

Yeah, who are you kidding? There’s no way this will be the last time you’re baking with your favourite monster of a boyfriend.


	10. Choi Family: Christmas Decorating

He couldn’t move, and he could barely breathe. Saeyoung feared that one false step would lead to a disaster in his own living room. 

He wasn’t even sure how he ended up in this situation. His limbs were constrained to his body. except for his wrist which managed to maintain freedom from the cords that entangled his frame. He tried to maneuver his extremities strategically in order to free the rest of him, but after so many attempts, despair seized its hold on him. 

There was no more denying it. He was stuck. 

“MC,” He called. He steadied his voice to a quiet, but firm tone lest she panic. “Not to worry you or anything, but I may be tangled in the lights.” 

He waited in his festive chains, straining his ear for the soft, annoyed sigh to drift from his wife’s mouth before any actual help was offered. But the seconds ticked onwards and there no sigh and no help. 

He craned the upper half of his torso to see past the gigantic obstruction which was their Christmas tree.

“MC,” he said again, eliciting no reply from his wife. He could’ve sworn she was right there putting hooks on the new ornaments. With a nervous whimper, Saeyoung scooted to the side to catch a better view. His chest was tight with the tense bundle of oxygen he was holding, as if one small puff of air would send the tree crashing to the ground. 

He winced at the pine branches that poked his nose and glasses, but he managed to peer through the long spokes to the living room. MC was still on the couch where he last saw. There was an ornament in her one hand, but the other remained empty and daintily draped onto the adjacent cushion. Her eyes were closed, her mouth hanging open, and her chest rising and falling in even breaths. At least one of them could breath normally. 

Saeyoung tilted his head, an admiring coo wisping past his lips. He loved seeing her like this. Even with her dazed, gaping expression and body drowning in her Santa Claus onesie, there was something angelic in the way she slept. He loved being able waking up to that face every morning, and he always thanked God for the blessing. 

But right now….right now, he was not in a grateful mood. Praying that no disasters would happen in consequence to his actions, he inhaled deeply until the lights resting on his chest dug into his skin. “MC!” he bellowed with as much might as he could muster. 

Fortunately, the tree did not go collapsing to the floor. Unfortunately, MC did—with flailing arms and a strangulated screech. She surfaced to her knees with a nefarious glower aimed in his general direction, although judging by her darting eyes, she wasn’t quite sure where to point her daggers. 

“If I wasn’t in such a difficult predicament, I would’ve laughed,” Saeyoung informed, even if his lips were already pulled back in a smile. 

Averting her head to the direction of his voice, she spotted him behind the forest-colored branches. Careful not to break any ornaments, she climbed back onto the couch before hopping over the boxes to carpeted ground. “What the heck are you even doing?” 

“What I was doing when you fell asleep,” he returned, finding a rush in fueling her irritation although he knew it might bite him in the butt later. 

Her anger softened to simmering agitation when she rounded the corner and actually witnessed his pathetic state. Saeyoung lifted his wrist as high as he could to wave at her. “Hello.”

 

She crossed her arms and shook her head. Her eyes twinkled in amusement as they dragged down his body enwrapped in rainbow colored lights. “Honey, you’re positively glowing,” she said. 

“Really? I think it’s just my fashionable accessories,” Saeyoung gasped, turning to the side to show off his vibrant addition to his already ridiculous reindeer onesie. 

MC’s shoulders shook in silent laughter as she retrieved something from her pocket. Her phone. Not bothering to be embarrassed, Saeyoung struck several poses he deemed foxy enough for the chatroom later.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to you,” she said from behind the flashing camera. 

The redhead deflated against the wall, his energy drastically waning with the heat from the lights battering his clothes and creating a mini sauna inside. “As much as I’d like to act on that premise, this is starting to hurt. Can you help me please?” 

She snapped one last photo before setting the device to the side. Her feet stumbled as she approached, and Saeyoung called out a few warnings as she continued her trek towards him. Seeing the tangled wires on the floor, he wasn’t sure what he did to even get here. He thought he was being careful, and it wasn’t like he had gotten very far on the tree either. The bottom half was barely displaying any of the lights he had worked so hard to put up. 

“Okay,” MC breathed. Her fingers yanked at different points on his body where the string seemed to be digging too tight. “Can you loosen yourself now?” 

Saeyoung gave a tentative wriggle, but that only seemed to worsen it. “Why don’t you just try un-spinning me?” 

“That could work,” she muttered, grabbing the bottom end of the lit trail. Her mistake was understandable considering the amount of strings were attached to his body, but her particular choice was entwined around his feet. Before Saeyoung could even cry out in protest, she gave it a sharp tug that swept the floor from under his feet and sent him hurtling face first. 

On the bright side, he didn’t hit the floor directly. However, poor MC received the brunt of his fall from her place between him and the other string of lights lying on carpet. “Are you okay?” he asked, managing to free his one arm enough to prop himself on one elbow and lessen his weight on her middle. 

She clenched her eyes shut as she fidgeted from her position. She let out a pained grunt and lifted her head. “Surprisingly, yes,” she said, a little breathless, but overall unharmed. 

With a relieved sigh, Saeyoung tried rolling off to the side only to find an unknown force yanking him back. “What was that for?” He snapped, his patience growing thinner the longer he remained tangled. Already, there were several pointy bulbs jabbing into his thighs at just the right angle to cause a series of unpleasant sensations to trail down his leg. 

“It wasn’t me,” she said, her voice coming out squeaky and a little frightened. “Um, my legs are stuck.” 

He looked down in horror, hoping it was just his wife’s attempt to avenge herself after her rude awakening earlier. But, sure enough, the devilish rope around his own legs had somehow ensnared itself along her ankles and caught on the few sequined decorations near her calves. They were quite literally tethered together.

Saeyoung could feel the color trickling out of his face. Contrary to the frustration clawing at his nerves, a chuckle eased from his throat…followed by another…and another, until finally MC involuntarily joined with her own giggles. Before they knew it, they were both a holiday-themed, wheezing mess of limbs, lights, and laughter. 

They only stopped when a disconcerted Saeran hovered over them. His cheeks were flushed in a bright shade of scarlet, and his green eyes flashed with something akin to concern. He turned a deeper red when he met Saeyoung’s gaze, and the latter realized how awkward this position must’ve seemed to him. 

“We can explain,” MC said, trying to hoist Saeyoung higher up to breathe.

“No need. I should’ve just stayed in my room,” Saeran stammered, waving his arms in front of him and inching away. The twin made a sharp pivot before stepping towards the hall. 

“Wait!” Saeyoung called, hand darting out to grab the hem of his brother’s pajama pants before he got too far.

Another unfortunate mistake. The boy let out an indignant squeak, his hands flying to the top of his pants as Saeyoung’s tug almost sent them flying the floor with the couple. 

“What the heck is wrong with you?” Saeran snapped, kicking his foot free. 

“Sorry!” Saeyoung said, trying and failing to curb his hilarity. “I didn’t mean to almost pull down your—“ 

“Don’t say it!” 

“...Pants.” 

Saeran turned a third shade of red. His greenish eyes glinted ominously, and an unnervingly cool smile uncurled on his lips. “If MC wasn’t directly stuck to you right now, you would’ve been a dead man.” 

“That’s why she’s my angel, “Saeyoung quipped with a prompt nuzzle against his wife’s cheek. 

MC coughed at the sudden weight on her chest. She gently pushed Saeyoung up while turning her head towards Saeran. “As much as I enjoy your sibling banter, I would enjoy it better independently….and from the safety of the couch. Saeran, please?” 

True to his soft spot, the younger twin conceded to her pleas and knelt by their feet. “And you wonder why I refuse to decorate the tree.”

After a few long minutes of Saeran’s disgruntled muttering, the lights were loosened enough that both MC and Saeyoung could stand properly. Granted, the latter still couldn't step three feet away from the tree without an impending disaster, but it was a start. 

Meanwhile, MC bolted towards Saeran and pummeled him in a ill-received hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—“ 

Saeran’s nose scrunched in disgust, but Saeyoung didn’t miss the fondness unfolding across his features under the guise of a scowl. “I get it, I get it!” 

“But, I’m hugging you on behalf of Saeyoung too,” she said with another squeeze, eliciting a groan from the younger twin. 

Saeyoung chuckled in agreement as he continued to detangle himself to no avail. “Although, I would hug you for real if you would actually free me too.” 

MC finally let go of her disgruntled brother-in-law and turned to re-examine the redhead’s situation. She clicked her tongue while inspecting the ring of lights again. “I just don’t know how you managed to get stuck so badly,” she said, glancing at him with a look of pity. “We might have to disconnect it and just cut you out.” 

A groan wrenched from Saeyoung’s throat. “But there’s at least three strings in here. It’s going to go to waste, and then we won’t have enough to wrap the whole tree tonight--” 

“Well, whose fault is it for buying a monster tree?” Saeran snorted, gesturing to the towering foliage that nearly reached the high ceiling. 

Saeyoung returned the sentiment by childishly sticking out his tongue. He turned back to what seemed like his only chance at freedom and a good tree-decorating experience. “MC, please…figure something out. For me.” 

Her shoulders sagged when her gaze skimmed down his form. Her fingers slid underneath the lights, assessing the pull and tensity. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s either you or the tree.” 

Saeyoung sighed, not looking forward to delaying their festivities so he could buy replacement lights. He peered down at his state, hoping his eyes might miraculously fall on a means of escape to salvage both his sanity and the string, but he was only met with a forest of multicolored bulbs with an occasional peep of light brown cloth. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he conceded. 

MC grimaced and patted his cheek with sympathy. “We can decorate tomorrow,” she said. She walked past him towards the kitchen, calling over her shoulder. “I’ll be back with scissors. Saeran, unplug him, please?” 

Spirits already dejected, Saeyoung turned to his brother and lifted his arms as far as they could go. “You heard her. Unplug me.” 

To his surprise, Saeran was already examining him with unnerving thoroughness. His eyes had brightened considerably since his silence just a minute ago. They flickered down Saeyoung’s body, lingering in one place and shifting to the next in their assessment. 

Before Saeyoung could even question his behavior, his hand shot gripped his shoulder. Saeran's entire body was rigid except for his mouth, which was curved in an wide smile. His eyes were fixed on the redhead with an almost impish glimmer. “I don’t think we have to choose between you and the tree.” 

“You sure about that?” Saeyoung said, lifting up his arms again to reaffirm his entrapment. 

Saeran nodded, that smirk still plastered onto his face. As much as Saeyoung loved to see his brother smile, it usually didn’t bode well for him when it lasted this long. 

The younger twin bent forward to pick up a box of ornaments at his feet, unfolding the lid and retrieving a plastic bauble from inside. 

Before Saeyoung could register what he was doing, Saeran hooked it onto one of the wires with every bit of meticulous care he would on a branch. “You could be the tree.” 

Saeyoung paled. His head snapped to the other boxes that his twin was eagerly rummaging through, to his horror. “Saeran, don’t—“ 

Before he could even finish his dispute, an ornament was hung against the green string at his chest. Saeyoung shimmied his shoulders in attempts to displace it, but the golden bauble remained adamantly in place. 

“You know,” Saeran began, hooking a Christmas ball on each of Saeyoung’s arms. “ If you would’ve told me it was like this before, I would’ve agreed to help earlier. I think I’m finally starting to get the whole fun behind this decorating thing.” 

“Yeah,” Saeyoung deadpanned. “Really feeling the Christmas spirit.” 

“I know, right?” Saeran returned with a vengeful glee. He continued to wander around the older man, sticking an assortment of decorations in places he deemed appropriate--which happened to be any place that was especially close to Saeyoung’s skin. 

The latter swallowed hard as the metal tips of the hooks grazed his skin, threatening to impale him at any heavy movement. A bead of sweat formed at his brow, though he was unsure if it was due to his nerves or the intensifying heat. 

“Listen, if this is about something I did, I’m sorry,” he pleaded, seeking his brother’s face for any sort of response. “Really sorry. I didn’t mean to break your action figure, or delete your computer’s memory file, or pull at your pants—ouch!” 

He whirled around in response to the sharp jab in his rear. A particularly heavy ornament hung from his onesie, instead of the lights. He dragged his gaze up to glare at a rather self-satisfied Saeran. But the obnoxious, yellow thread in his hands expelled the exasperation in favor of fear once more. 

“Ready for the tinsel?” Saeran said.

“No!”

He was promptly silenced with the prickly fluff. 

Saeran hummed a Christmas carol under his breath and weaved the metallic thread through the established lights. The excess strands pooled at Saeyoung’s feet, further imprisoning him. 

Despite the testy grumbling flying from his muffled mouth, he was actually…having fun? He tried not to think too deeply into those implications, but he couldn’t deny that watching his brother having a creative epiphany at his expense was heartening. 

Saeran was a reserved person by nature. In very rare instances would he share a simple joke, and in rarer instances would he participate in Christmas celebrations. Yet, here he was exchanging snarky quips, laughing at Saeyoung’s own comebacks, and genuinely enjoying himself. 

It wasn’t an entirely friendly experience. But neither was it antagonistic. It was something right in the middle that Saeyoung could only describe in one word: brotherly. 

After adding several more weighty ornaments, Saeran produced a thin box from the table. The label read: icicle strands. Every muscle in Saeyoung’s body stiffened, already imagining the silvery string sticking to his clothes for the next ten years.

He jutted out his chin, successfully freeing his mouth from the tinsel. “Please, not that,” he begged with whatever energy he had left.

Saeran had no such mercy. Without breaking eye contact, he clawed out a clump of strings and adorned it over the red mop of hair. 

It got everywhere. The filaments dangled behind Saeyoung’s glasses and pricked at his eyes. They tickled his ears and snaked down his neck and into his shirt. His nose received the brunt of the glittery assault as one strand brushed against his nostrils, sending an itchy sensation through his entire face. 

He could easily itch it...if only his arms weren’t clamped to his side. What kind of Christmas-themed torture was this?

Saeran tossed the box to the side and stood back to admire his work. 

“Are you done yet?” Saeyoung moaned after being stared at for several excruciating seconds. 

Saeran hummed, eying his brother with a contemplative examination. “Nope. I’m missing the most important part.” 

He knelt in front of the pile of mostly empty boxes, perusing through each one with an animated determination until he arose with a short cry of triumph. The white, glittering Christmas star reflected in his own glimmering eyes. 

But, His final act of revelry was cut short by a horrified cry behind them. 

“What the heck did you do?” 

Saeyoung twisted as much as he could to face the source of the voice. MC stood in the doorway, scissors in hand and jaw threatening to unhinge to the floor. “Honey! Look what he did to me! So mean.” 

To his utter dismay, she grinned. “You look even better than before.” 

Saeran extended the star towards MC, his brow arching in the offered conspiracy. With a smile unbefitting of such treachery, she accepted it and approached her husband. She raised the star ceremoniously in her small hands. 

Having surrendered to his fate, Saeyoung ducked his head to better accommodate the cumbersome topper. As if crowning him, she delicately lowered the ornament onto his disheveled, tinsel-clad hair. 

The weight forced his neck to bend at an odd angle, but after a few adjustments on Saeran’s part, it remained steady. 

“You do make a pretty cute tree,” MC winked. If she was trying to make amends, it wasn’t working. But despite the festive burden on his body, Saeyoung couldn’t manage to appear annoyed. The ornaments clinked together as his chest vibrated in a half-laugh. 

He clicked his tongue and nodded his head towards MC’s phone on the shelf. “Might as well take a family photo while we’re at it.” 

“Good idea!” she said, her feet scurrying across the room to comply. 

She returned to his side, frantically waving at Saeran to join. Suddenly growing shy, he stood from his place on the couch and slid behind the older twin.

“1…2…3…” MC counted, signaling the shutter and the flash that followed. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip as she reviewed the picture with a small giggle. She showed it to Saeyoung, and a cheerfulness displaced any of the sullen attitude left in him. He had assumed he looked ridiculous, but he finally received the confirmation as he stared at himself, barely seen under a splattering mess of red, green, yellow, and silver. 

But that wasn’t the only thing that struck him. Out of the hundreds of pictures they had taken, this one was different. It was candid, domestic, and a little blurry, but...they really looked like a family. 

It wasn’t pinpointed to any one thing. It was said that a picture could capture a thousand words, but for some reason, that picture expressed a myriad of emotions, but for once, they were all positive. Even Saeran was smiling. 

As MC cut through the mess around his body, Saeyoung was suddenly glad for the mishap. It wasn’t the decorating experience he had hoped for, but…it was true to their nature he supposed.Unconventional and a little weird, but…it was a family thing. 

Besides, he could always brag that he was Saeran’s first Christmas tree, and that was an honor enough.


	11. Kissing Under the Mistletoe: Saeran x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are two parts to this. The second one is just a self-indulgent bonus because I can't get enough of Saeyoung's pranks. Both parts are unrelated. Hope you enjoy!

It’s finally done. Standing from the top of the ladder, you get a good view of the now festive-looking bunker. The fairy lights decorating the tree add a beautiful glow to the absurdly large Christmas tree — Saeyoung was overly enthusiastic for Christmas and even MC could not stop him from buying it — and Christmas stockings are hanging along the wall next to it. There’s an incredibly detailed gingerbread house model on the dining table, and a bunch of random ornaments, including plastic candy canes and snowcats, strung up along the walls of the bunker.

“It looks like Santa threw up here,” Saeran comments with a small eye roll, but there’s a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes that goes unnoticed by you. It’s his first real Christmas and his first time being able to decorate a place that he can call home, after all. As much as he’s been complaining about how cumbersome it is to have to decorate so extensively when everything is going to be removed in less than two weeks, you can tell that he’s been enjoying himself. Aside from the backaches and physical exhaustion, at least.

“Yeah, it does,” you agree, chuckling at his comment. You’re standing on the ladder, having just hooked up the final decorative mistletoe on the ceiling, while Saeran is standing guard beneath you, arms out and ready to catch you in case you fall. It’s unnecessary, but you fell down the ladder and crashed onto the floor just three days ago when he was helping you decorate your apartment, so he has, apparently, “lost faith in your biological ability to operate your limbs without getting yourself killed”.

"You should get down now,” he says, patting your calf impatiently in a bid for you to hurry and get down where you won’t be at risk of obtaining a concussion.

“Okay, okay,” you mutter, slowly stepping down. Obviously, nothing remotely dangerous happens, and you stick your tongue out at him once you’ve landed safely on the floor. “Told you I can handle myself.” 

“If you could, you wouldn’t have that big bruise on the back of your head,” he argues.

“That was just one time!” you retort, dodging his hand that’s diving for an attack on the sore spot on your head. “And it’s because I was wearing extra slippery socks.”

He’s completely unimpressed by your statement, but settles for shooting you a flat look so that this conversation won’t continue any further. You both had enough of it when you insisted on climbing the ladder to put up the mistletoe earlier.

_Speaking of mistletoe..._

You pause from your staring match with Saeran to look up at the delightful ornament hanging right above your heads, swaying as if waving to you in greeting.

‘ _Hello,_ ’ you think to yourself in response, blinking a couple of times. You feel like you’re missing something important.

It takes painfully long for the fact that the both of you are technically standing under mistletoe to register through the haze of growing embarrassment in your thick head. You can only manage a simple and absent-minded, “Oh...” when Saeran asks what’s wrong.

“What do you mean ‘Oh’?” he demands, frowning and following your upward gaze. “What about the mistletoe? Was it placed wrongly? Should I go up and adjust it?”

“No...” you answer, shaking your head. For someone as intelligent as him, Saeran sure is slow on the uptake. Turning to him, you’re startled to find him standing so close to you, as he strains to look at the mistletoe from where you’re standing by placing his face precariously close to yours. His lips are parted in question as he examines the decorative ornament, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re discreetly taking a tiny step to the side so that his shoulder stops brushing against yours. Too close. _Way_ too close. This is not good for your heart. You’re acutely aware of your beating heart that’s pumping faster and faster, while your cheeks and ears are warming with a tingly and unnerving heat.

“Then why are you staring at it like it’s about to fall and land on your face?” he asks.

“Saeran.” He snaps his gaze back to your confused eyes at the sound of his name.

“What?” he asks, the creases on his forehead crinkling at your expression. You’re not entirely sure how you look like right now. You hope your face isn’t _too_ red, at the very least.

“We’re standing... under the mistletoe...” you say slowly, arching a brow and trailing off from your sentence as you wait for him to catch on.

“Yeah...” he answers just as slowly, dragging out the word. “So?”

“So, that means... Um... How do I explain this to— Wait.” You do a double-take, eyes blowing wide in surprise. “Do you not know about the Christmas tradition?”

“What Christmas tradition?” he questions, now looking genuinely curious, the irritated quality to his eyes vanishing within seconds.

Well, you suppose you shouldn’t actually be that surprised, considering Saeran never really liked Christmas and its traditions still remain a largely unexplored concept to him. Now the only issue is, how should you explain this to him without things getting awkward? You can already imagine how flushed his face will be if you just explain it to him like that and wait for him to give you some sort of reaction. A reaction that will most probably entail him excusing him and avoiding you like the plague for the next two hours.

You take a few seconds to rack your brains, until an idea clicks in your mind. Your eyes light up, and the new gleam in your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“So what is it?” he asks a little more suspiciously now, when your eyes land on him, lips curving into a smirk.

“Close your eyes,” you say, which only makes his frown deepen.

“Why?”

"Do you want to know what this tradition is, or not?” you ask. It takes a little more coaxing before he finally relents. You can’t help but laugh when he grumbles to himself and reluctantly closes his eyes as you request. Curiosity wins over all when it comes to him.

“If this is some kind of prank,” he warns, peeking one eye open to make sure you won’t prank him while he’s as vulnerable as he is.

"It’s not, don’t worry. Just keep your eyes close. And _don’t_ open them.”

“Fine, fine.” He’s fidgeting about, shifting his weight from leg to leg, tilting his head at an angle and shifting it from the left to the right. Clearly, he’s uncomfortable, but he’s doing a good job of waiting for you to enlighten him somehow.

You take a step closer to him, willing your heart to stop drumming in your ears like a marching band, worried that he’ll actually hear it. Your hand wraps around his cold one, so that you can steady yourself as you slowly lean in, leaving mere inches of air between your faces. He’s holding his breath now, having sensed your proximity, and you observe the now red tips of his ears. The hand that you’re holding tenses and his body goes rigid as he waits for you to go further. At the moment, all he can feel is the warmth of your breath and face fanning out on his face.

You make a mental note of how long and pretty his lashes are, before you slip your eyes close and place your hand on the back of his neck to rest your fingers in the soft, silky strands of his red hair. Tugging him gently towards you, you angle your face, tipping it upwards to press your lips to his.

He freezes for all but two seconds, before quickly relaxing into the soft, fluid kisses you place on his lips, no doubt the sensation of your fingers kneading his scalp near the nape of his neck comforting and easing him into it. His lips pull back into a tiny smile, and he responds with his own tender kisses that mirror the way your lips melt against his. The sensation of your breaths mingling and chests touching turns your insides to mush, and heat spreads from your face down to the very tips of your toes.

When you pull away from him, breathless, you chuckle and elaborate, “It’s a tradition for people to kiss when they find themselves under the mistletoe.”

He rolls his eyes, though the affectionate, sweet smile continues to play on his lips. “That’s a stupid tradition.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is,” he retorts. “Who came up with that, anyway?”

You shrug. “Don’t know. It’s just tradition.”

“Are we only allowed to kiss once?” he asks, the hopeful sparkle in his eyes going unnoticed by you, and the suggestion causing your chest to swell with affection.

“Well, no one said anything about how many times you have to kiss,” you chuckle.

“Good,” he says, placing his hand on the small of your back to press you close to him. “Then I guess you can’t complain.” With a smirk, he leans in once more, and you happily close your eyes in anticipation.

 

* * *

 

 

**Bonus: Kissing Under the Mistletoe — A Saeyoung Choi Prank**

_(because seeing Saeyoung and Saeran fight never gets old.)_

 

“Hey Saeran, what’re you doing?” Saeyoung asks. He quietly enters his brother’s room, noting with some interest the look of intense concentration on the latter’s face. He’s reading something on his laptop, eyes glued to the screen and mumbling to himself. He doesn’t seem to have noticed his brother’s unauthorized entry into his room yet.

“What the hell? Seriously? Frigg? Why?” Saeyoung is barely able to make out the angry questions that Saeran is muttering to himself, but the name Frigg catches his interest.

“By any chance, are you researching about the mistletoe tradition?”

Saeran clearly wasn’t expecting to hear another voice apart from his own, for the sound of Saeyoung’s gleeful words sends him jumping a good few centimeters into the air, and nearly throwing his laptop off the edge of his bed entirely.

The result of that, of course, is Saeran’s livid glare and a disgruntled, “W-What are you doing here?” Saeyoung ignores all of that. He’s become immune to Saeran’s glare (almost), and his brother looks so funny and cute with his face turning red from the humiliating show of a reaction he just displayed. His hand is pressed on his heaving chest as he tries to calm his frantically beating heart down, no doubt from the scare. Saeyoung absently thinks it’s a pity that he didn’t manage to get a reaction of this level out of Saeran during Halloween — Saeran was way too mentally prepared for his pranks, so most of the time it was just Saeyoung failing to jump scare him and Saeran telling him that he was wasting his time on being stupid.

“Stop laughing,” Saeran scowls, at the chuckles spilling past his older brother’s lips.

“Haha, sorry Saeran. I wasn’t expecting you to do that.”

“That’s _my_ line,” the younger redhead retorts hotly. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Oh, right.” Saeyoung got distracted from his mission for a moment. “I was sent here at the command of the lovely MC to relay a message to you: she and your girlfriend are baking right now so you’re not allowed into the kitchen or there will be no gingerbread cookies for you. End of message.”

Saeran visibly deflates at his words. He opens his mouth to protest indignantly, but then shuts it, apparently deciding that it’s not going to get him anywhere. Queen MC’s words are final in this bunker. All he can settle for instead is a sour, “So selfish.”

“You’ll get to eat some tonight after they’re done, don't worry,” Saeyoung laughs, taking the opportunity to ruffle Saeran’s hair. His hand is promptly slapped away.

“Owwie,” Saeyoung whines, rubbing his stinging hand.

"Get out. I’m busy,” Saeran says, retrieving his laptop and scrolling through the paragraphs of words on the screen.

“You’re researching about the mistletoe tradition, aren’t you?” Saeyoung asks, as he speed reads the article from behind Saeran’s shoulder. “Aww, my little brother is so excited to do the k-i-s-s—”

“It’s just out of curiosity,” Saeran defends with a convincingly straight face, betrayed by his rapidly reddening ears. “Christmas has a lot of weird traditions. This is the stupidest one I’ve read about.”

“Mmm,” Saeyoung hums with a suggestive wriggle of his brows. “So, have you kissed her under the mistletoe yet?”

“Of course not!” Saeran exclaims a little too defensively and loudly. He clamps his hand over his mouth and glances over at the closed door, before his gaze falls back on Saeyoung to narrow his eyes at him.

Saeyoung isn’t about to let this chance to tease his cute little brother easily though. “Do you _want_ to kiss her under the mistletoe?”

“What the—” Saeran squeezes his eyes shut and purses his lips into a thin line to keep a colorful string of words from escaping him. “Why does that even matter to you, idiot?”

“Were you, by any chance, caught under the mistletoe with her before?” Saeyoung smirks, easily seeing through Saeran’s irritated mask.

Saeran drops his gaze, fingers playing with the sheets of his thick bed. It takes him a short while to admit that yes, he got caught under the mistletoe with her just this afternoon when they finished up with the Christmas decorations.

His brother is nothing short of delighted and excited when he hears of this, and Saeran has to yank him back by the arm to restrain him from bolting out the door and calling his girlfriend out from the kitchen. No doubt that would mean severe embarrassment should Saeyoung drag them both under the mistletoe.

"Saeyoung, I swear, if you do anything stupid—”

"But I wasn’t gonna... Not really anyway,” the older man laughs breezily, before wincing at the hard smack to his arm. Fair enough. He deserved that. “Are you that nervous to do it?”

Saeran doesn’t reply. All he does is hang his head low in an effort to hide his tomato-red face. In response, Saeyoung rests his hand on Saeran’s shoulder to pat it comfortingly. It’s quickly shrugged off after three pats. “There there, I was a little awkward the first time MC and I kissed under the mistletoe too. I’m not used to Christmas traditions either.”

Saeran made a face, though he still kept his head down. “You can leave out the details about and MC. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“Okay, okay,” Saeyoung laughed, deciding he should spare his already suffering brother from the torturously mushy details from his first kiss with MC under the mistletoe. The memory of it still sends tingles through his arms and his lips to curve up into a wide, goofy grin. He quickly snaps out of his reverie though, when Saeran clears his throat.

“So, are you going to get out of my room, or will I have to do it for you?”

“Wait wait wait!” Saeyoung protests, stretching out his palm to Saeran to stop him. “I have an idea! I know how to help you feel less nervous when you inevitably find yourself under the mistletoe with her.”

“I don’t need—”

“Nonsense, young grasshopper. I have just the cure for your anxiety,” he grins confidently.

Saeran can only stare at his brother suspiciously. That smile never bodes well for him. And especially not those gleaming eyes that indicate that Saeyoung just got an idea. And Saeyoung’s ideas are _never_ good.

Saeran’s suspicions are confirmed when his brother turns around, reaches into the pocket of his slacks and puts on some kind of headband, before spinning around to face him again.

“No,” Saeran starts, pointing a shaky, accusatory finger at the thing— the _monstrosity_ dangling from Saeyoung’s head.

“Oh _yes_ ,” Saeyoung nods enthusiastically, causing that hideous ornament to bounce up and down in the air, like some kind of bait on the end of a fishing rod. “Practice makes perfect, Saeran,” he explains, gesturing proudly to the mistletoe that is now hovering over their heads. “Now pucker up!”

Saeran slams his laptop close and throws it onto his pillows in some swift motion, before frantically backing away from his advancing brother. “Don’t you fucking dare! Saeyoung Choi!”

“Hyung just wants to show his brother some love this Christmas,” Saeyoung sings, jumping onto Saeran’s bed. It causes the younger brother to panic, and he quickly leaps off the bed, attempting to run and make a hasty escape, but he’s no match for Saeyoung’s reflexes. He blames the amount of cookies he’s been eating recently — the added weight is slowing him down now.

Before he can side-step his brother and make for the door, Saeyoung catches him in a tight hug, leaving only a small space between their faces.

“I’m warning you,” Saeran huffs furiously, struggling to get out of his brother’s hold. He’s forgotten how strong Saeyoung actually is. “If you don’t let me go now, you’re going to seriously regret this. Let. Me. Go.”

“Where do you wanna be smooched first, Saeran? Your forehead? Your cheeks? Or your—” He makes a horrifically loud smooching sound. “—lips?”

“MC!” Saeran shrieks at the top of his lungs. “STOP WITH THE GINGERBREAD COOKIES AND HELP ME!”

“MC can’t save you now,” Saeyoung cackles. “Okay, I’ve decided. Lips, it is! Now pucker up, little brother!”

He doesn’t get a chance to see the look of pure terror on Saeran’s face, because the next thing he registers is a hard, painful knee to his crotch. The unexpected attack stuns him, and his grip around his victim loosens considerably. The next thing he registers is a fist that comes flying to his face. He doesn’t have the time or energy to dodge it, considering the excruciating pain racking his entire body. So he braces himself for impact. The punch causes him to stumble backwards, and the world around him spins before he crashes face-first onto the soft bed. Then he crumbles to the floor, landing on his side in fetal position, all while groaning and whimpering MC’s name.

Saeran doesn’t waste time in sprinting out of his room to get to safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW. It's finally over, thank the Lord. There'll just be one more mistletoe post from Ailis with SaeyoungxMC, do look forward to heart attack-inducing fluff from her as usual hehe. 
> 
> Anyways, since this is my last chapter, I'd just like to thank everyone for reading this Merry Choi-mas series. It's been amazing being able to work with Ailis, a writer and a friend whom I adore. She's an amazing person and this experience has been super enjoyable and fun. (Although I'm probably never writing holiday-themed fics again. Haha.) To those who commented, thanks for stopping by with your comments as well, they really make our day because there's no greater joy than knowing that our readers enjoy our works. So yep. 
> 
> Also, this is very belated and unnecessary, but merry Christmas HAHA.
> 
> Till next chapter (I'M EXCITED!!!)


	12. Kissing under the Mistletoe: Saeyoung x MC

MC was just readjusting the garland on the shelf. It was nothing profound and nothing dazzling about the action. And yet, from her peripheral vision, she could see her husband leaning over the edge of couch. His fingers clutched the cushions, knuckles turning white from the strain of supporting his body. His golden eyes were transfixed on her figure behind his patterned glasses, and his lips moved silently in what sounded like a muttered prayer. 

She blew a harsh breath from her nose and whirled around. “You know, if you’re going to check me out, you could do so more subtly.” 

Her words must’ve startled him. His grip on the couch slipped, sending his body sprawling forward onto the rug. MC bit back a laugh at his bemoaned whine. 

“I wasn’t checking you out,” he replied. He propped himself on one elbow, a cheeky grin splitting his face as he looked up at her. “But if you insist.” 

Blazing heat rushed to her cheeks. She grabbed the closest pillow and tossed it onto his face to stop his flirtatious gaze from trailing further down her frame. To her dismay, he caught it midair and neatly tucked it under his head. 

MC reclined against the fake fireplace and crossed her arms. “Then, what were you staring at?” 

The redhead pushed himself up on both hands, his lower half planking against the ground.  “I’ll tell you if you move ten inches to the left.” 

She followed after his eager glances. Expertly fastened inside the streams of fairy lights lining the ceiling was a cluster of green leaves with tiny white berries. Mistletoe. 

“That’s a fire hazard,” she commented before stepping in the opposite direction with feign insouciance. 

Another anguished cry left her husband’s lips, and MC almost felt sorry for her actions. 

“You're doing this on purpose!” He shouted, an accusatory finger wavering towards her. 

MC barely suppressed the smirk tugging at the edge of her mouth. She turned her back and pretended to fidget with something on the shelves just so she could uphold her ruse.  

Saeyoung had been trying to catch her under the mistletoe for days now. Originally, her evasion of the leaves had been unintentional, but his increasing exasperation at the missed attempts sparked a mischief in her that she hadn’t engaged in a long time. Besides, with the amount of pranks he’d pulled on her during their entire relationship, he probably deserved it. 

“Well, excuse me for not walking where you want me to,” she snorted. She heard Saeyoung climb back to the couch, the metal rods creaking under his weight.

“It’s impossible for you to have missed every single spot by accident,” he ranted. “I put it above your desk, and you happen to take off from party planning--that day. I put it above our bedroom door, and you fell asleep on the couch. You never fall asleep on the couch!” 

She turned back around just in time to see him flop backwards onto the seat, limbs haphazardly dangling from the sides. His eyes darted about the ceiling, confusion and bewilderment clouding their usual brightness. “I even put it in the fridge. Do you know Saeran found it and almost punched me--again!” 

MC couldn’t hold back the snigger at his expense, but she hurriedly composed herself when he shot her an unamused look. “Babe, if you want to kiss me, feel free.” 

“But—But—“ He spluttered, gesturing to the mistletoe in question. “Tradition!” 

He was getting so red and so worked up. It was too cute.  
As cruel as it sounded, his aggravation warmed her heart. At one time, trying to get him to even decorate a tiny tree resulted in wistful remarks and solemn frowns. It was a stark contrast to the zeal that flared within him now. 

It was wonderful…and the perfect excuse to test his limits just a little longer.  

“The tradition is to kiss when two people get caught underneath it,” MC said. She shrugged her shoulders with the same dismissive attitude she had assumed all week. “You haven’t caught me yet.” 

Something grave flickered behind his eyes, their color darkening from bright gold to deep amber. His brows quirked upwards and his nails dug into the cloth cushion in his hold. “Is that a challenge, dear?” he said, his honeyed voice not matching the rapacious glimmer in his stare. 

Her insides clenched, knowing that look was only reserved for when a particularly ruthless idea was forming in his brilliant mind. Still, she fought against her quivering bravery, pressing her fingertips against her side to appear calm. 

“Take it as you will,” she replied with as much coyness as before. 

He held her captive under his fiery glare just a few moments longer, almost as though he could sense her accelerated heart rate. His short huff was a relief to MC as her husband averted his attentions away from her shuddering person and stood to his feet. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and ambled past her to one of the cabinets. The doors chirred, intermingling with the strangle medley of “Silent Night” and “Frosty the Snowman” floating from his closed mouth. 

MC furrowed her brows as he rummaged through the mess of trinkets. Her instincts advised her to run for it. Saeyoung could be very determined when he wanted something. Dangerously determined.  But her curiosity kept her firmly in place. 

When he finally turned, MC started a few paces back. He twisted what appeared to be a reindeer headband in his hands, shooting a tentative glance towards his wife as if permitting her to get a head start.

Foolishly, she stayed. 

MC’s stomach plummeted when he crowned himself, openly displaying the the ears and the thin rod jutting out from the center. A smirk dangled at the edge of his mouth, and mistletoe dangled above his mop of red hair.

“Oh, MC,” he sung. He puckered his lips and made exaggerated kissing sounds. 

She wasn’t sure if the thrill coursing through her veins was due to his adorable expression or because she now acknowledged her impending doom. She decided it was both when Saeyoung bounded towards without warning. 

A laugh and a shriek simultaneously tore from her throat as she pivoted on her heel. He lunged towards her, but his grappling hands only brushed the cloth of her sweater. 

“You have to catch me first!” MC called behind her before barreling through the nearest hallway. 

And so the chase began. 

Adrenaline and excitement pulsed through her limbs and carried her legs all around the bunker. She did her best to out-maneuver him--ducking into various rooms, bolting over furniture, tossing the occasional stuffed animal in attempts to displace the eyesore on his head. 

But Saeyoung was as skilled in pursuit as she was in avoidance--if not more so.

Her lungs burned from the effort and eventually forced her to skid to a stop near the coat closet. She debated on hiding inside, but didn’t think she would fit with the overflowing chaos leaking from the atrociously unorganized cabinet. 

Instead, she waved her arms in front of her, her breath leaving faster than she could speak. Her back pressed against the cool wall with Saeyoung appearing just a few feet away. 

“Wait,” she panted. “Just…second…” 

He didn’t oblige. He crept forward in slow, long strides like an animal would its prey. Although, he looked anything but feral. His cheeks and nose were flushed, and his teeth flashed behind a cheesy grin rather than a snarl. Still, he was close.

In her panic, MC swept the nearest item off the floor, which happened to be a hat sewn in the likeness of a cat. With a few delighted squeals, she whipped it in front of her to keep him at a distance. 

“MC, come on!” He said, jerking away from the flailing cloth. “It’s just one little kiss.” 

A stifled laugh slipped past her lips at his heavy footsteps. She had lifted the hat to shield her face, but an idea sparked in her mind, prompting her to lower it. He paused in his trek, his eyes narrowing to slits as he suspected her tricks. 

“Fine,” she said, feigning annoyance. “You’ll get a kiss.”

Thoroughly convinced by the act, he flaunted his triumphant smile and glided across the slick floors on his mismatched socks. His hands slammed against the wall behind her, barely stopping his body from crashing into hers. In one smooth movement, they slid to her hips and tugged her closer. “Finally,” he muttered.

MC gripped the hat to her chest, remaining perfectly composed under another of his dubious inspections. “I won’t run,” she reassured him.

Hesitating only a moment longer, Saeyoung leaned towards her. His lashes fluttered against his cheek. His lips pursed expectantly. MC watched him come closer and closer until their noses were almost brushing. With a soft sigh, she closed her own eyes and finally....

Shoved the hat against his mouth. 

He recoiled sharply, spluttering and cringing in disgust while MC clutched her sides aching from laughter.  His hands batted against his tongue to remove the stray pieces of yarn that stuck to it. 

“Aww, did you not like kissing the kitty?” she said, tilting her head with as much innocence as she could muster. 

He didn’t find it cute. In fact, he looked very...very pissed. 

“No fair,” He said in a low growl. 

“Technically it was,” she said. “My hat was directly under the mistletoe—not me.” 

“That’s not how it works!” he exasperated with an almost crestfallen expression. MC hated when he gave that look. It sent a pang of guilt to her chest, but she buried it inside her cold intentions and spun around to walk away. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Her twinging heart said otherwise. No, she couldn’t succumb to his puppy eyes now.

“It’s tradition, isn’t it?” she said starting to walk past. 

She didn’t get far. A scarf wrapped around her stomach, and before she could register what had happened, she was yanked backwards into a stronghold. In one swift movement, the hands on her hips spun her around with such force that she should’ve been dizzy. She was dizzy, but not for those reasons. 

Wide-eyed, she stared straight into Saeyoung’s face. 

Something serious mingled with his teasing smile. It made the soft graze of his hands against the small of her back so much more powerful than it was, prompting her to stumble closer at just a light push. Her palms flattened against his chest--the only wedge between them.Short spurts of air puffed from his parted mouth as he was obviously a little breathless himself.

Saeyoung glanced up at mistletoe on his headband. It swung back and forth like a pendulum, occasionally catch the strands of her hair. 

“Mistletoe, check,” he said. His gaze carried down to her face where his eyes once again pierced hers. His lips curved just a little higher. “MC directly under the mistletoe. Check. I think you have no choice now, my little reindeer.” 

“Okay,” she conceded, shifting her hands to rest on his shoulders. 

“Okay, what?” he prodded with a little jab to her side. 

Stray giggles tumbled from her mouth. “You win,” she said, unable to feel the weight of her loss when his face was practically beaming. “You can have your kiss--from me.” 

His eyes widened, and he sucked in a dramatic breath. “Kiss?” he sputtered. “Only one kiss after all that I went through? So stingy!”

“Two,” she offered, another giggle betraying the solemn expression she was trying to hold. 

He shrugged. “It’ll do...for now.” 

MC waited for her fate, fully expecting him to upkeep the light atmosphere. Perhaps scouring her face with sloppy kisses. Or emphasizing each kiss with loud smacking noises. He would call it revenge. 

But she was wrong.

Nothing but gentleness permeated from his index finger as it slid under her chin and guided her face towards his. In the same manner, his thumb ran across the surface of her lips while his eyes studied them with the same detail. 

This was revenge enough, MC thought, her body jolting with intense heat under his smoldering scrutiny. 

He lingered just inches away from her face. His warm breath smelled like cookies—the ones he no doubt stole from the kitchen earlier. The scent grew stronger as he drew closer until finally the taste of vanilla reached her mouth. 

The moment his lips touched hers, she melted. The kiss was tender. Barely there. And yet her breath fled her lungs at the brief contact. 

“One,” he mumbled, barely leaving space to speak. 

His mouth glided over hers a second time, capturing it with more force but with all the sweetness from before. No, it was sweeter...deeper. 

It was a kiss that made MC regret the past few days. Despite the fun and the teasing, this sent a heavier rush from her head down to her weakened knees. Long after he withdrew, the intoxicating taste of chocolate and sugar stained her tongue leaving her both intensely satisfied and yet craving a hundred kisses more.

“Two,” he counted, his hoarse whisper dragging her from her euphoria. 

When she opened her eyes, a softer smile replaced his cocky simper from earlier. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingertips skimmed down the line of her jaw until finding purchase at her neck.

“Happy now?” She said, finding her voice after so much oxygen had abandoned her. 

He hummed in agreement and pulled her against his chest. “Only took three days.” 

She snorted and snuggled into the crook of his neck. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll make it up to you. If you catch me under the mistletoe again, I won’t run or avoid it. I promise.” 

He surfaced from her hold, his eyes narrowing with rightfully deserved skepticism. “Promise, promise?” 

She nodded before removing the band from his head and tossing it aside. “Just please don't put mistletoe in the fridge again.” 

His laughter wasn’t reassuring. But still, a part of her hoped he might try again. It was one of her favorite traditions after all.

* * *

MC flicked off the last light switch in the house, calling out a general goodnight to Saeran as she passed his closed door. She hadn’t seen her husband for hours, but judging by the glow coming from their bedroom, she assumed he had gotten caught up working on some last minute project. 

She was beginning to grow suspicious, however, when she neared the room and heard silence instead of a keyboard clacking. Still on high alert for one of his pranks, she inched towards the doorway and only revealed her head. “Saeyoung, what have you been doing all this…”

Her words died on her lips as she spotted her husband waiting expectantly on their bed. He sat cross-legged on top of the covers with that silly, mistletoe headband in his hair again. 

“Very funny, dear,” she chuckled, albeit unnerved at the impish curve of his lips. 

He leaned back on his palms, his head angled to one side. “Do you remember what you said earlier about catching you under some mistletoe?” 

MC walked towards him, hands outstretched. He obliged and intertwined his fingers with her own. 

“I do,” she replied. “Why? Is there mistletoe above me right now?” 

He sucked air between his teeth, his eyes dipping down to examine her lips and sending butterflies fluttering through her stomach from anticipation. “You could say that.”

MC hesitated before tilting her head upwards to check above her. Her breath hitched. 

The entire ceiling had become a curtain of green. Mistletoe was draped on strings spanning the entire room with little if no space between them. 

“Oh…my…” the words barely formed on her paralyzed tongue. 

Saeyoung drew her from her reverie with a sharp tug onto the mattress. His hands wandered down to her waist, an insistent pressure behind his fingertips. “Exactly a hundred,” he informed, casually tossing his glasses onto the nightstand. “I wanted 707, but I settled.” 

“No way,” MC breathed, still trying to estimate the number from her sight alone. But she couldn’t. There were too many. Besides, she didn’t doubt Saeyoung would actually buy the absurd amount just to make a point...and one heck of an evening. 

“It’s true,” he returned, his nose gently bumping with her own. “I think this’ll make up for all your antics.” 

Her chest heaved another laugh, affection tickling at her stomach. It was a ridiculous gesture—insane even. But it was so Saeyoung-- of course, she loved it. She loved him. 

“Is a hundred kisses the maximum amount due?” MC said, tearing her eyes from the decorated ceiling back to the redhead hovering over her.

“Minimum,” he hummed, placing a languid kiss to her jaw. “There is no limit after that.” 

“Interesting,” she returned. “Well, I guess a promise is a promise. But wouldn’t it be nice if I did reach 707?”

He smiled so wide against her skin, she thought her heart would burst. “It would be a gift,” he said.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, her gentle tugs leading his face closer to hers until their breaths mingled in the centimetres remaining. 

“Well then,” she whispered. “Merry Christmas, Saeyoung.” 

She brought his lips down to her own, and started counting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my last chapter for this fic, so I just wanted to say some things. First of all, thank you so much to everyone who read this series! I really hope you enjoyed it, and it warmed your heart and extended Christmas through January:) Thank you for everyone who commented and left sweet messages! They were much appreciated. 
> 
> Also, big shout out to Sherms! XP It was a blast doing this with you, and I think collabing for this fic was one of the most inspiring experiences I've ever had. You're so supportive and encouraging, and I had an amazing time bouncing ideas off of your brilliant little head:) It's so great having a friend and a writer who thinks alike, and I enjoy every one of our conversations! I would gladly suffer the late nights and writer's block to do this again with you. 
> 
> That being said, a belated Merry Christmas to all of you reading now, and a very Merry Choimas to all of you reading in the future!


End file.
